Don’t believe the hype
it’s all tripe
I fight to be heard
with powerful words
but sometimes I fall short
a butterfly caught
in agonising self expression
another session
of writing does it yield results?
heart felt words
and worlds I have built
love and blood I have spilt
my flowers wilt
I try to water and nourish them
but they break at the stem
but I need them
I am my confidence
my ego defined
yet I mine
for excellence
for written talent
But I fall
sometimes short
another poet who’s caught in the block
a rock stopping my river from flowing
I live in knowing that I want to be a success
and in this I can never rest.
