Writing a poem is not easy for me,

For I am not a very good writer,

But no matter,

I try my best to achieve at my weakest point,

And although at times I may succeed,

And other times I may fail miserably,

So badly that I may have to resort to my laptop to make me gleeful again,

I still continue,

Because I am a firm believer that practice makes perfect,

Okay not perfect,

Because perfect does not really exist,

Unless you are a “perfect flower”,

But we aren’t plants,

We are people,

So I guess practice makes “not worse”,

Just better,

And well,

It doesn’t hurt to become better,

Or so I am led to believe by the majority of humans that surrounds me,

Constantly placing different expectations and rules,

That it often becomes confusing,

So confusing that I lose track of where I am going sometimes,

And I secong guess decisions I was sure were the correct ones,

Wow,

I just did it again,

I think I will,

End this not very good poem,

Now.