Current Self Assessment:
My poetry sucks. Let's face it. It really does. My diction has slipped, my grammar become poor. Unattended. Lazy. And even that is merely tangential to the true issue, the true diagnoses of my poetry. It simply sucks. I've horrible arrangement. Pathetic attempts at rhyming, which in their stride only serve to worsen the condition of the poem. There is no rhythm. It is childish, immature prose. And I've grown tired of it. I dread reading my works. They move no one, not even me. And that is the worse crime to poetry. To be unmoving.
In conclusion?
Maybe I should take a class or something. I really need to work on that shit.
YOU ARE READING
Restless Things
Poetry"I didn't realize what damage heat can do To flesh so bare So I poured you out all over me Until I was undone And shaking But after the fire has gone All that's left is ash and wilted skin So now I know Better" -The Things You Left Behind (Poetry, P...
