To the people, as the one I live with Moved by cotton candy poetry Decepted fullfilment. Ones with noses up high in the air Of rightousness and superciliousness Hautingly gave the o.k. for Poe, Keats, and Hemmingway To an empathetic reader Following the crowd. Who am I writing too? Honestly, I wish it was me. Or maybe the question should be Who IS writing? A fluff-lover with obnoxiously shallow words; The critiques and teachers Echoing Is this why I don't even like my own poems? Because they were never really mine.Birth sign: Gemini
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