What makes a poem wonderful
Is it the idea that I wrote it in the darkest corner I can find
Or the idea that maybe you can relate but
You don't even know me

Maybe my poem is not even poetic
Maybe I am spilling thoughts to the phone on which
I go to when bored
Maybe I'm in class pretending to take notes on my laptop
Maybe I'm on a plane attempting to impress the person next to me
Or maybe

What can I do to relate to you without even knowing you
Can I tell you that I know you regret because I do too
Maybe I can pour this infinitely vivid imagery of joy
Green grass
Blue skies
Loving families and summer fun
But then I punch you in the gut with the blunt, depressing truth

Is it relatability
Is it imagining a future too good to be true
Is it trying to stretch a finger to the tip of infinite success
Is it conveying pretty thoughts to make you feel good
Then trying to cover up the dimmer reality of life

What am I even writing for
I won't impress you
I have said it before, You don't even know me
But maybe that's it, maybe I want you to know me
Maybe I want to be great so the world will know me
Or maybe I prefer to remain hidden
What makes our thoughts beautiful?
What makes this beautiful?