In search of self
#1
Meaning eludes me in a torrential outpouring of thought.
My pen spews poetry as beautiful nonsense,trying to comprehend myself.
Not expression, but exploration as I strive to contrive some deeper meaning from this bullshit I spit onto an empty page, beautiful, senseless garbage.
Not a poet but a madman mad at himself for his complete inability to express himself.
I cannot speak without lying, I cannot sing without choking, I cannot think without exposing a flaw in my own character.
My analysis of myself is incomplete so I write contrite little statements about myself.
My semblance of elegance gives way into decadence giving flowery descriptions of a decaying mental state.
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#2
This is great. And you just described me perfectly. Although I write poetry to express myself, I write it in exploration as well and you just opened my eyes to that.
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#3
I think you've got some really nice lines here that some slight editing would bring out.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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