It's not poetry.
Everything I write is a maddening
thought spewed, almost saddening
to watch. And I claw
at my brain to get it out, and gnaw
on the nails I bite between shouts.

Poetry is beautiful
yet my words are ugly,
to call it righteous
would be untruthful.

My pain's no good
it's a non-art with no use.
It's not art to me,
but what does it mean to you?