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I am a Selfish Poet
I am a selfish poet
Yes, I covet the paper
And guard my pen
Even my torn up pages
Belong to me
It’s fragments of myself
Some I’ve disposed
Some I’ve buried
Won’t be discovered again
My treasures, nevertheless
I am a selfish poet
Not for my journal greed
But rather for the script inside the margins for whom the text addresses
Inspiration happens so suddenly
And it is my mind that transposes these
But I am a selfish poet
Because the depths of my emotions
Stained on paper
Are written for me
But if it pleases a reader
Or touches a soul mid stanza
I am a selfishly blessed poet
Yes, I covet the paper
And guard my pen
Even my torn up pages
Belong to me
It’s fragments of myself
Some I’ve disposed
Some I’ve buried
Won’t be discovered again
My treasures, nevertheless
I am a selfish poet
Not for my journal greed
But rather for the script inside the margins for whom the text addresses
Inspiration happens so suddenly
And it is my mind that transposes these
But I am a selfish poet
Because the depths of my emotions
Stained on paper
Are written for me
But if it pleases a reader
Or touches a soul mid stanza
I am a selfishly blessed poet
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