If I had talent, I’d be a musician
I’d play for small crowds or big arenas
I’d be able to command the attention of an audience
I’d charge buckets of money or sometimes not charge a thing at all
If I had guts, I’d be an actress
I’d wear designer dresses to all the award shows
I’d become any character anyone could come up with and
I’d even move to LA or New York
I’d hide from paparazzi and enjoy every second
If I had grace, I’d be a dancer
I’d glide across the floor, making every step look effortless
I’d feel the music through my toes and in my heart
I’d have perfect pirouettes and flawless leaps
I’d be so beautiful
If I was braver I’d be a poet
I can write poems until my fingers bleed
String words together on lined paper
Watch them as they tumble from my pen
Sometimes I even wake up in the middle of the night
Just to write down some lines or stanzas
But no on ever reads them
I keep them tucked away in notebook after notebook
Hidden by school notes or doodles
I leave them all to collect dust
If I was braver, I’d be a poet
Instead I hide my poetry away from prying eyes
Out of fear, I let the pages rot
Until I lose myself in their wilted corners
And I can feel my soul begin to wilt as well
Through the rhymes I choose to ignore
To the poetry I give pieces of myself that no one will ever see
If I was braver, I’d be a poet
-JE
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
If I had talent, I’d be a musician
I’d play for small crowds or big arenas
I’d be able to command the attention of an audience
I’d charge buckets of money or sometimes not charge a thing at all
If I had guts, I’d be an actress
I’d wear designer dresses to all the award shows
I’d become any character anyone could come up with and
I’d even move to LA or New York
I’d hide from paparazzi and enjoy every second
If I had grace, I’d be a dancer
I’d glide across the floor, making every step look effortless
I’d feel the music through my toes and in my heart
I’d have perfect pirouettes and flawless leaps
I’d be so beautiful
If I was braver I’d be a poet
I can write poems until my fingers bleed
String words together on lined paper
Watch them as they tumble from my pen
Sometimes I even wake up in the middle of the night
Just to write down some lines or stanzas
But no on ever reads them
I keep them tucked away in notebook after notebook
Hidden by school notes or doodles
I leave them all to collect dust
If I was braver, I’d be a poet
Instead I hide my poetry away from prying eyes
Out of fear, I let the pages rot
Until I lose myself in their wilted corners
And I can feel my soul begin to wilt as well
Through the rhymes I choose to ignore
To the poetry I give pieces of myself that no one will ever see
If I was braver, I’d be a poet
-JE
