Poetry is an act of narcissism.
Poetry is screaming into the ears of other people.
Poetry is the art of begging strangers to look inside your mind.
Poetry is therapy with the ******* cashflow reversed.
Poetry is an act of narcissism.
This poem is a cry for forgiveness.
I wish I could call It an epilogue, but that it is not.

Hi, I am the poet and I am also an addict.
I am addicted to the attention and love of other people.
I am addicted to the feedback and approval of other people.
I’m 20 and I still act like I’m the only person on earth.
It probably has something to do with my parents.
Or any other way I can shovel the blame off myself.

Sometimes I hate selfless people because I wish I could be like them.
I have not said that out loud before.
I never ******* grew up.
I have not said that out loud before.

Today I spent £20 of my Mother’s money because I convinced myself I deserved it,
Because It’s hard getting out of bed,
Right?
                                                                                 Please see my thoughts.

Today I convinced myself it’s not my fault I get jealous of other people,
I’m a blameless product of my upbringing,
Right?
                                                                          Please tell me they are okay.

Today I wrote this poem and lay in bed,
And you should pat me on the back for that,
Right?
                         ART IS DEAD WE KILLED IT ARE YOU HAPPY NOW


Poetry is an act of narcissism.
I am a poet.
Forgive me.
Forgive me.
Forgive me.
Forgive me.
Forgive me.