my friend read my poems and said "wheres your point"?
The truth *****!
I realized I have no point.
I read robert lowell,
I have john berrymens dream songs.
He seemed disconnected,
I read my journal,
All my secrets confused him.
We all start out ******,
But we all end in happiness.
No matter what I read.
My point leaves, I cant find my
True meaning of meanings.
Hes rite my points a dull unsharpened pencil
But with work ill be a poet.
Im a delussional dream.
Please show me
Every moment I failed at
Writing.  Its a necassary evil
I needed to feel.