I am deeply grateful for rewrites, edits and progression for they lead to breaking my oppression.
Spelling and grammar was never my gift, poetry taught me understanding and expression.
Along the lines of poetic formation I’ve caught the breaks that show my mistakes.
I am not ashamed of my past errors for I understand I am not perfect in anyway shape or form. I do not expect much from myself, for pride breaks the mold before it is sold.
I look back at my work to revise it’s mold learning and developing a stronger understanding of a possible growth.
Words are my best friend, adieu adieu my passionate friend.
A capulet that cascades from my mind, looding the pages of time as the poetic lines collide with my visions of expression.