There was a time,
when I wrote poetry
for the sake of poetry
for the sake of emulating my feelings
and expressing an idea.
But that broke
when the likes kept coming
and the comments of praise
and the follows kept growing
and each day I stuck my tongue out
so I could taste the satisfaction
of having another poem trend.
It ruined my poetry
it ruined who I was
groveling-
writing meaningless words
that sounded okay together
because I didn't care to write my heart
I cared to write what would trend
and what you feed my crippling self-doubt
make me feel like I was good at something.
It poisoned me.
and I fed off the poison
and mutated
until I shocked back to reality and was ashamed of what I saw
and stopped.
I left.
without even a proper, dignified good-bye.

But I wrote poetry still.
without posting.
and I kept on at it
and slowly my smile grew
slowly the spark came back
I told myself I would post on HelloPoetry again
when I was worth it
when my work was something I could be proud of-
but with each poem I save as a draft
I think
"no no, not ready yet, I can do better, I am better,"
and I dig deep and am creating works
that for once-
show that I am growing-
progressing
taking the steps all great poets should.

I had forgotten what it was like to write poetry for love.
I only remember feeling disgusted with myself
for less than twenty likes.
I hope someday I know only love,
and forget what it's like to be addicted to stranger's "approval".