Did I hurt you?
Did I help you?
Did I push too hard?
Did I ask too much
of you?
Or was it just
what you needed?
Was it defeat?

In a world full of artists and  writers,
It’s hard not to compare
“Are the poems I write good?
What makes them different from anyone else’s out there?”

My poems don’t rhyme
At least, not all the time
And my words may not be exquisite
Hell, they’re hardly even elegant

No, my poems may not be the best
But, they do come from the heart
So who’s to say
that isn’t art?

"I'm an open book"
She says

Written in
code.