I am nothing like
My favorite poets.

I am nothing like
Bukowski,
With his hopeful cynicism
And distaste for most things.

I am nothing like T.S. Eliot,
And his pompous pride and hatred for
All things American (though he was American by birth.)

I am not an addict like Poe,
Nor filled with satirical sass like Oscar Wilde.

I am somewhere lost within the imagery of Emily Dickens
And the love of the world around us like Frost.

Or maybe I am all
Or maybe I am none,
But either way,
The angst always wins out.