Mon, 05/28/2018 - 19:41 -- Taveon

A couple of years ago, I didn't know much about poetry. 

I didn't even like it. 

I thought that it was the lowest form of story telling. 

It was only when I started writing my own poetry that I realized that I was foolish for thinking that way. 

It was no longer than four months ago when I decided to spill my guts in a poem.

I wasn't good at poetry, but that didn't matter, no one was gonna see it. 

I revealed alot about myself in this specifgic poem. 

My fears. 

My insecurities. 

My shame. 

Everything I didn't like about myself. 

It was all revealed inside that poem. 

It wasn't long before I was completely done with the poem. 

It was three pages long, and incredibly eloquent with its description of me. 

I was proud of it. 

Extremely proud. 

I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of me. 

Almost like everything I didn't like about myself was taken away while I wrote the poem. 

I was so proud of myself that I began to recite my poem to no in perticular. 

As I read my poem, and I actually lisened to my own words, I gradually began to lose my sense of pride. 

After I was done doing my private recital, I burned my poem. 

Burned it till it was completely gone from this planet. 

I regretted writing the poem, for when I read it, it made my hate myself. 

The poem showed me all the less than charitable things about me. 

And somehow, it showed me even more flaws than I thought I had. 

I can't even explain how this happend. 

Reading my own work, just made me despise my flaws even more. 

I swore to myself that I would stop writing poetry. 

Obviously, and thankfully, I didn't live up to that. 

I still write poetry. 

And I absoluetly love it. 

I use it for many things. 

I use to describe myself. 

I use it to describe my life. 

I use it to describe how I feel about other people. 

And I use it to make changes to myself. 

I've learned that poetry, like all forms of writing, is a beautiful thing. 

It could help you express yourself in many ways. 

It could even teach you some things about yourself. 

Whether you like those things or not. 

This poem is about: 


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