My struggle of writing poetry...in a poem.

Sit,
At my desk,
Try to think of something,
Clever…
D
I f
F e r e n t.

If…
If…
If…
The word ‘if’ is in different.

If I were to use 'different',
D
IF I were to use the word different,
F E R E N T

No...not just different.

I could do different easy.
I could just write what I'm writing now.
This complete disaster.

I need something GOOD.
You can get bad different.
Not bad good.

That's hard...

What shall I write about?

Um...self harm?

No, that won't go,

The rest of my poetry won't flow...
with that.

No, no, no.

I've got enough self harm rhyme,
enough self harm lines,
To last a life time.

Step dad?

That's just boring,
so so bad,
It would be sad.

This?

Well that's what I'm doing,
this this this.
This tiss miss.
What rhymes with this?
I'd give this a miss,
who would read this?

I wouldn't.

Tap my toes,
Pick my nose, ( It rhymes.)
No don’t do that.
And think…

I want to express myself,
Me,
I want to express what I don’t know,
Me,

Tap,

Tap,

At the keyboard,

Sigh….this isn’t working.

Who would call this jumble of words a poem?

The pieces don’t fit.

I’ve only don’t half the puzzle,

More like a quarter.

This has no rhyme,
No rhythm; no beat,
Doesn’t make you nod your head,
Or tap your feet.

I may as well just –

(Just…stop
But I don’t want to stop.)

- stop.