Us poets
Aren't we all the same?

We all write about
Love, lust, heartbreak, hatred.
Depression, self-harm, recovery, relapses.
The sun and the rain, the breeze, the moon and stars.
Remembering, forgetting, past mistakes.

Do we not centre around these topics?

It's all just a matter of
Twisting, manipulating
Phrases used one too many times.
Adding a touch of yourself here,
Another hint there.

To conjure something
We call
Original.

Poet, be not afraid.
There are far worse things than
Bad poetry.

Keep writing; like a child keeps
Drawing with the purest of
Disregards to likeness.

The more stones you turn, the more
Gems you produce.

The more ink you rain,
The more gracious your written
Children grow.

All flexing builds muscle.

Rough bricks form castles.

Even Dalì carved canvases to shreds
And started anew
Not caring too much.
Not caring

Too much
To keep painting.

ah
it all washes away
no worries
just kick'em up

relax

easy as a summer's breeze
beautiful like an autumn's eve