Maybe that is why I walk alone most of the time
I listen and don't want to hear gossip or anything that sounds like noise
Good mornings or nods
Pat or pet a dog
Drink your beverage usually water
Not only am I in tune but learn more than idyll chit chat
Listening Carefully sometimes to music but usually the time of day

heart speaks of what it is full of
if you want to know the truth of it

I tell myself lies
To protect my ego
Twist what I know
Ignore the bruise on my pride
I tell myself lies
You enjoy my poetry
You feel very flattered by me
You may not care to see
Or even know me
But I tell myself lies
I pretend to believe

The Devil
Doesn’t tear you down
He builds you up
Until

You believe you can
Do it alone
Then he smiles
As you fall

And you always fall

Used to play hide and seek
With emotions
That made me "weak"

They counted
Only to ten
Not much time to hide
So they always caught up
And found me
In the bathtub

Over time
They knew all spots
I used for hiding
They always find me

They make no noise
Walk on their tippy toes
Silent shadows
In endless rows

I don't want to play
But for them
Even when it's over
The game never ends

Anything can
look like a poem
and sound philosophical
simply by moving
the words on
different lines.

Am I doing it right?
Is this
really
talent?
Art?
Effort?

I think I am trying.
Really, I am
I go back and change the order
and I break lines
where it sounds right
But it does not take me long.
Not at all.

I try to be
intentional
and call it natural rhythm.
Instinct and style taking over
I alternate between
agonizing every detail
like When to Capitalize
and publishing free form poems without looking over them twice.

How is writing supposed to feel?
Should I labor?
or should it flow?
Or do I get to decide?

I think the things I talk of
mean something
at least.

But am I just
pretentious?

fooling myself into thinking that
using common poetry formats
somehow makes my work worthwhile?