I am not a poet.
My words mean nothing to the world.
The world cares not of what I have to say.
Poetry does not speak to me.
It might be whispering but I cannot hear.

I am not a poet.
I do not know how to make words sing.
My phrases do not dance.
My words express no emotions.
My letters only sit on a page and stare at you.
No exchange.
You simply read on and then move on.

There simply isn’t a flow.
And all I know is,
My metaphors and similes simply make up memories and  used to bes.

Even the rhymes don’t make sense.
I possess the passion but lack the talent.
Therefore, it’s only time wasted.
The fact of the matter is,
I am not a poet.