AM NOT A POET
I’m Not a Poet I’m not a poet, Not in the way that words flow easy, Not in the way that ink spills from the mind Like rivers of emotion onto paper. But still, I try— And in trying, I become the poem, A reflection of what I can’t always say out loud. I’m not a poet, No lyrical genius, But when I pick up my pen, It bleeds ink, Capturing fragments of thoughts, Shaping my scattered soul into words on a page. I’m not a poet, A warrior who wields words like swords and arrows, Fighting with a pen, Leaving marks on hearts, Turning blank paper into battlefields. I’m not a poet, But I’m learning One line at a time, One word at a time. I’m still figuring out the path That leads from doubt to clarity— I’ll write, even if I don’t yet know the destination. I’m not a poet, But maybe I am the poem, A work in progress, A mixture of mistakes and dreams, And all I need is my pen To let it out. I’m not a poet, But maybe, next time, I’ll write about the simple things, Like a tree, And call that my poetry. ...
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