I feel like this is all I write about,
and it makes me sad,
it makes me want to stop writing,
but it also makes me want to keep
writing.

I don't write to please anyone but
myself. If I did what would be the
point of writing? It is for me.
And if others are kind enough
to read my words and enjoy them,
then I am grateful to have written
them. And if they do get annoyed
that I keep writing about the same
subject over and over and over again,
then they may kindly stop reading
my poetry.

But look here, I have
somehow managed to create this
arrangement of letters and words to
be about something entirely different.

I should be proud of myself. But I am
not. Because if I'm honest with myself,
then I would know that this is just a poem
talking about how I should no longer write
poems about you, making this very poem
about you too. I just can't win.