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If I Were a Poet
Sometimes thoughts form in my head, fall off my lips, and land on my paper easily.
After all, I am a poet; so words, they kinda work for me.
Sometimes I feel so inspired and the words just flow and flow.
As if my name were Shakespeare or Edgar Allan Poe.
But there are times when I can't decide which words to select. I just don't know which ones would have the most powerful effect.
I'm a writer but I can't decipher why my paper is still completely blank.
I thought I was a poet, but now I don't know what to think.
It feels like the cat has my tongue and it's holding on tight. This is absurd, it's as if I've completely forgotten how to write.
For crying out loud, I'm suppose to be good at writing.
I keep trying to catch the right words, but all the wrong fish won't stop biting.
So many words are racing through my head, creating heavy traffic.
I see one dancing past me, but I can't seem to grab it.
I guess I'm not a poet.
I should just give up writing and forever lay down my pen.
I'm not a writer, poetry is too hard; I don't even know where to begin.
Writing was my dream, but I guess I have to let go of it.
The truth hurts. The truth is...
I am not a poet.