poems about poetry

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I was once told that “originality was dead,” And for the longest time, I believed it so. However, through conflicting opinions, I realized that it was alive, And only needed to be reinvented.  
Billy was once a kid in my grade. When we were little she would wouldn't go out, not even for the town's parade. You see, Billy had a speech impediment.  Children would tease her for her words-their abuse became adamant.
I’d rather run out of my house with no destination in mind than reading poems about the same old poetry When every poet in the world writes about the same black ink that courses down the veins to the fingertips
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