poetry is hard
everybody wants to read
your most personal thoughts

the only success you'll see
is when you paint your heart across the page
and pour your soul into pressing that simple "save"

my voice seems worthless until I spill my secrets for the world to see
but what if I want to keep secrets to myself
and let the world see what it thinks it wants

let me write soppy stories of summer days
or mornings filled with cliched coffee cups
loaded with the "real" problems every poet apparently has

the real Problem is that everybody has a problem with not having problems
why can't we be happy having perfect lives

instead, I have to pretend I have problems
when all I really have is the standard stress that comes with being young

The closest thing I have to a real problem is the parabola on my worksheet and the other math problems beyond it

I'm no different from any other aspiring author
wanting recognition for lying
and exaggerating
and imagining problems into existence

because no story exists without conflict
and no peace exists with problems
so we have a bit of a perfect problem paradox