As talent drained from every inch of my mind
I found reading other's work only made me jealous
                   I started to feel unpopular
          Not enough ideas left to create anything at all. Not a single drop of inspiration.

      As all of theses emotions and realizations mixed together

I became okay with copying your work.

       I can imagine you slaving in the dark
Racking your brain to find the perfect words to finish the last line

       Lucky for me I have it all right here, completed and ready to post
     Finished and polished and prepackaged with a message I didn't think of but everyone will commend me for.




    *I hope you enjoy it.

I picked a flower in May just to watch her blossom all for myself
Beautiful and brilliant I sat her in a glass on a shelf
I added water so she wouldn't go dry
Magnificence such as hers I couldn't let die
I watched as she grew
Time flew and flew
Her petals orange and blue like a vanilla sky
As she prospered and danced I noticed a change
Something very strange that caught my eye
Her stems became vines intertwined simultaneously with my poetry and life
In place of green,
She overflowed out of the glass in white sheets of paper
And it was there she made her illustration so divine
A perfect drawing of a heart
That turned out to be mine