Moss grows and gets frozen over
And I grow and slowly die
From the moment I was born

I don’t think this is very
Healthy of a viewpoint
But I don’t want to judge myself

Silvia Plath was depressed
I am just a little sad
A few moments of every day

I think of myself as creative
But I don’t consider myself
Anyone of significance

I can only complain
I can’t express the good
Things I see every day

Just because you call yourself
A poet, doesn’t mean
It’s true, you have to make money

I can have moments of brilliance
Sparked by nothingness
But really what is the point