I am no poet
I've loved poetry, but I am no poet. In grade school i often read my mom's poems. I imitate her, writing a poem. But my poem is not a poem. Its just a a bunch of lines ended with same syllables. Its more like a free story. A repetition of my minds. My poem lacks emotion, simply because i can't imitate an emotion. In grade school a weekly paper post some of my poems. I felt honored (read: i had got a honorarium), although my poems are all faked, containing faked intelligence, faked emotion, faked care, faked feelings, faked urgency. Its not like the weekly paper fall for my fraud, they post it just out of courtesy, perhaps. Later then i tried and compose a poem. But nothing is composed. No longer. For i am no poet. All i could wrote was a poem without emotions, without harmony, a prose? It begin on tenth grade. I found this note app on my old phone. i can type up to two message long. I loved copying my ideas there. Some becoming my prose. I lived attached to my own writings. I write it once, i read it nonstop. It became a great bedtime readings. But one day i erased it all in one go. I memorised it more or less, But rewriting it felt hard. It would be tasteless. Without the right ambience it never came to live. So i stopped trying. I've loved my writings, I want them to live eternal life. Breakable electronic ware was too mortal to be their home. So i try and keep them in this immortal matrix. Hidden things ought to lost my sight, so there's no longer any point in hiding. All my life I've been succumbed in fear of those who judge. Hiding myself in the paperback. But recently i feel like screaming : "Scram you evil being! I would not care no more! "
