you stole my art and turned it into trash
*******.
i have oceans inside of me -
which you are turning into a puddle.
a
*****
*****
*****
puddle.
yet- still i am stronger
more full.
it feels like a cheap imitation
like when i read the words
they are familiar
and it seems like i’ve been robbed of my feelings
i tried so desperately to word correctly with my shakey hands.
did yours shake?
when you stole the words right off paper
did you feel it?
or did you want to seem like you felt it?
so you can seem sad poetic deep beautiful
how badly do you want to be ****** up?
is it so badly that you can dumb everything down
so that it barely even matters?
these words came from deep inside my bones
the ones that felt like breaking
when i wrote them
and the feeling will come over and over again
it will not always be poetic or pretty
learn that.
learn how to write and accept YOUR OWN FEELINGS
WHAT YOU FEEL.
not what somebody else feels
not what somebody wants you to feel.
this poem is not pretty
or poetic
it can barely even pass for a poem
but it was all me.