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.