I’ve become selfish with my poems.
I’ve started not to care about the quality of them.
“That’s so beautiful” they would say.
Now I just want it to be unappreciated.
I don’t care for the oohs and awes.
Those are the times when I would write for others.
Now I write for myself.
This a ugly mess relating to only me.
To write about how I truly feel.
To care not what others think.
Like it or love it.
It’s no longer significant.
The long extended detail poems are contrary to how I feel now.
A man of few words.
The words I know are no longer adequate.
I am depressed and I never knew that poetry wouldn’t be enough to describe my situation.
It’s made me selfish. I don’t care to explain.
I just reluctantly strive to get over this ****.