It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you

It took his resolve
a mere tear
to settle the drought
that lasted for years.

I look at someone else's poem
And I see flawlessness.
I look at my own
And I see nothing but flaws.
I write poetry to get away from the bad feelings.
Not to make more.
And it's hard.
Everything is hard.
I've become hard.
Hardened to the beauty of the world.
Hardened to the beauty of poetry.
All I can focus on is my own writing
As I try to be as good
As you.

i said i loved you.
you said "so what?"
i said i was scared.
you said "so what?"
i said i needed help.
you said "so what?"
i said goodbye.
you said "wait-"
but it was too late for me.
too little, too late.
i was gone.

So what?