Unrestricted Literature

9

I'm not a poet.
I'm a painter.
An artist with stained hands from the words on paper.
I don't believe in rhyming.
Only in rhythm.
As my hand plucks the strings on my cursed guitar.
Being tuned to the right key.
The right anthem.
The right sound.
I am no poet.
Because I don't quote Shakespeare.
I'm a bird flying high in the sky and suddenly swimming.
I'm not a fan of alliteration.
Because my hand shakes.
And my head fills with criticism.
I'm anything but creative.
Because my words lack meaning.
My heart sinks too deep.
And the ringing in my ears lull me to sleep.
I can't be a poet.
Because I believe I can.
But the thing is... It's far from the truth.
From my truth.
I am a poet.
I just had to change the words.
The theme, however, hides in the dirt.
And the snake slithers upon my arm.
Takes its venom and adjusts its scales.
Poetry is nothing else but nonsense words.
That's all they ever said.
And it's all we've ever heard.