They will tell you
All poetry has been written
There is nothing new
Under the moon
But let me tell you
They don’t know you
You are as unique
As the DNA that exists
Within your frame
The ripples on your thumbprint
No one ever had the same.

Listen...

You have something to say
Say it proudly
Say it boldly
Never let them scold you.

Never let them make you go away.

Poetry
without
heart
is
just
.            
.
.
.
some
words
on
a
page.

***** words aren’t always hidden
in symbols, are they?

Some poets use words to wound,
and they know my weakness.

The subtle weapon of language.
The tool of a master.

Artfully chosen,
then Drawn like a dagger.

Slaying my attempts
at peace of mind.

Because they know I always
read between the lines.

I am the dandelion.
Transformed.

I was a useless ****.
Unwanted.

Now I am a fluffy force.
Reformed.

*******!

I sail on the wind.

I begin again.

Bot or not?
Have you tried it?
Poetry written by a bot.
Oh it can be hard for some to see the truth.
But for others,
not.

I wanted to write something profound.
But it’s not working out.
The well is dry.
No water around.
Nothing to spout.

So I guess I’ll just say “hi.”

I’m having a difficult time coping.
The **** is hitting the fan.
I know you wouldn’t understand.

I’m glad you’re coming.

Beware of the emoji man
Who has no real emotions
So he borrows those
Cartoon ones
And thinks that you won’t notice.

weakness is the bane of my existence.

if strength were an equation,
my weakness would negate it.

please just let me be strong.

i've made so much progress, after all.

weakness is a Demon
i can’t control.

a Demon that will swallow me whole.