I felt like writing, but didn't know what to write so I looked over some of my old poetry for inspiration. It was strange.
I read a poem. A silly little poem I wrote during an English lesson and I literally felt my heart swell up with love for it. I'm not saying it was the best poem ever written, because that would be a huge lie. I got so passionate about it because I love writing things like that. When I look at my poetry of 3/4 years ago and then look to now I see such a difference. I can see just how much I've progressed as a writer without any real educational guidance, just through sitting and reading poetry written by other people. I feel proud of myself for doing that, for perservering and carrying on. I feel like I am a writer now. I feel like I can call myself a poet.
I won't carry on being all saft - it's not really like me. I'll just leave you with the poem.
The man from next door
has a wooden leg and a parrot.
Everyday he sits on his doorstep
tapping wood against stone; foreboding.
The rhythm; a mismatched waltz mimicks
my heart, sets it on fire, makes me want
to run,
run so very far away.
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