Y'know, if I'm not a good poet
Why do I bother writing?
Why do I care so much about my critics
It leaves me alone, pissed off, disgusted
It also leaves me pondering...
I mean, why do I continue with this?
It doesn't get me anywhere
It just makes me realize that others have surpassed their own limits
Yet I've stayed in the same limit line
To cross such boundaries on my own
Man, I wouldn't dare...
So why should I continuously try?
Everyone's amazing, but what about me?
I'm just 'good? '
I'm good?
Alright...
I'm 'good, ' yet my writings are irrelevant with no relations to life, so they make no sense
Why do I bother writing?
It only gets me to believe that I can't even form understandable well-put sentences?
I just babble on about my own struggles
But then again, it's all a matter of psychological pain, fiction - absolute pretense.
CDM Anderson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/absolute-pretense/
