I am not a poet
whose mind is as beautiful and destructive
as the universe itself
I am not a poet;
only a person whose words never seem
to roll off my tongue and bounce off the walls
they way they do in the walls of my mind
I am not a poet;
whose words are so beautiful
as they accentuate every syllable,
taking a life of its own
I am only an amateur
                                    whose words will always fall short
{d.c}