What Does It All Mean?
I don’t keep hidden diaries,
I write my words for all to see.
So take a look, devour me up,
Drain the last drops from the cup.
Sometimes I exaggerate importance,
But I will not hide behind false pretences.
If I don’t like something you do
I’ll say so for the world to know.
I have no favourite form or style,
I play with techniques from while to while
Just to prove I’m capable.
Is it good? That is debatable.
A self-important egoist
Who sits and thinks and writes, insists
He knows what he’s talking about,
All the while still plagued with doubt.
Too busy studying my peers
To take the plunge and face some fears
That for others have disappeared
Through breaking rules in younger years.
If I’m liked I do not know it.
I feel a lonely, learning poet.