Someone just recently asked about myself and my poetry.

If I liked my poetry and what I jot.

I say, "yes" of course because I got put on the spot.

I kept thinking on the question and I've noticed something.

The flaws and inconsistencies in my work.

My pen usually floats across the paper effortlessly.

Everything just naturally flows from the heart.

But things have been different lately.

I've been writing more from my mind and to me, that's where I've lost it.

For me, poetry comes from the heart.

And I've lost that spark.

I know nobodies perfect but it's not my poetry I'm worried about.

It's the people around me that read it.

I'm so worried about pleasing them that I lose focus and sight on what I'm writing.

How they sit back and judge more on finesse rather than a personal perspective from my side.

Pretty one sided.

I've lost my identity as a writer and it's time to pull that back.

I write poetry for me.

Not that I don't care about pleasing you,

But it benefits my mental state more than you may think.

As I open the gates of hell leading onward to my heart, the voices get louder and more violent.

Be open minded and listen.

For they are The Words I've Never Said.

6/19/19

8:49 PM