You do not have to be good.
All of your poems about hurt
Your lines of love and loss
Need to flow out of your core
Trapped they fester like maggots
Feeding on the root of your mind
Press it out and quickly
Into lines of code
Brush strokes of sanitation
Let it flow from you like sewage
Flushed from your center
Then realize that this waste
Wanes your foolishness
Cloaked in your innocence
Not less, but more knowing
A mine of parsimony
That needs to be cleared
So that the true depths of love blossom.