Being frank here,
I think a lot

And I think about
my thinking

And I have a unique way of thinking
as do most people

But I combine my thoughts
with analogies
I conceive through
my creativity
And weave them
into words

Which I have learned to love
through my obsessive reading
in my elementary
school
days
...
That's it
I haven't read
enough official
published
poetry

I don't really
edit my
poetry
much

I don't overthink
it
too much
either

Just my thoughts,
on a lonely page
...
...
...
I've wondered time
and time again,
is this even
poetry?

My thoughts
carved with
a
choppy
cleaver

Rough on the edges
with spots of
honesty

As well as
parts,
as smooth and cold
as marble
The honesty hidden
beneath
eloquence
analogies
other distractions
evasions
...
when the truth
is too much

But it's still me on the page
...
...
But what I can't figure out
is,
do I do it
for social approval?
To be heard?
To spill out my emotions?
To make something beautiful?
...
Just cause?

A wintry night
the wind swirls around
...
...
...
blowing my questions
away with a chill...

The poems
That mean the most
To me
Are my most personal
Individualistic
Ones

But the ones
That are the most popular
Happen to be the
Most general ones
Writtin in a whim
Easy,
To empathize with
...
It makes sense if you think about it

Through poetry
I find myself