Write more
Of poetry that was mine in the first draft.
Not suffocated by critiques
Not black ink secrets, twelve-point font of
Times New Roman lettering.

Revise more
Of the words that don’t make sense.
Cut simple vocabulary.
Stare at the computer screen until you go blind,
Don’t forget to highlight changes
Of poetry that isn’t mine anymore.

Print more
Suggestions on blank white paper,
Words, holding reasons
On why I didn’t meet expectations.
Marks, decorating my poem
Removing lines I once loved.
It’s not good enough.

It’s not good enough.

Looking at my final draft,
Gripping the wrinkled edges,
I can still see ink stains,
I tried and tried to remove it,
But somehow it’s still there.

I want my poetry back.