I'm no good at poetry

you know, I'm no good at poetry
as I stay up at night and stare at my notes
I can't focus
there's voices in the back of my head
they bicker over everything
how to order coffee
how to flirt with the barista
how to burn down the Starbucks
but they agree on one thing
I'm no good poetry
I show my friends and they give me compliments
I haven't heard someone say a bad thing
they just take a moment and choose their words carefully
they pause to take a breath
they pretend to think about my poem
then they say, you're good at poetry
I walk and jot down words
I go on a run to gather inspiration
I sit down and peak at a stranger's phone
as I try to steal his words he walks away
I try to steal his posture and the way he moves when he walks
I stare too long
The stranger looks back
He doesn't say anything
He keeps moving, taking peeks over his shoulder
you're bad at observations, and you're bad at poetry
I lie down and let myself rest
I smoke a bit and unwind
I find inspiration in my vinyl's and cigarettes
I hate myself for what I've become
I write down one liners and bad jokes
I try to dig in deep and tell my truth 
It's incoherent and messy but honest
I text my dad and make shopping plans
I send my dad my work
Waiting patiently he responds
Unlike everyone else, he gives me criticism
but regardless he says 
good job kid, you're good at poetry