when i first started writing, i was about 11 or 12 and full of pre-teen angst. i knew nothing of love, but it was my favorite topic. and i solely wrote poetry. i didn't keep a diary, or try to write short stories. poetry was my one and only jam. maybe it's because i've always been a bit of a musician at heart, and a lot of my poems i would try to turn into songs.
as i got older, my writing turned more into journal entries, with a few short stories that have never seen the light of day (and probably never will). i stopped writing poetry as much, and really just free-wrote about my pain, my experiences away from home, and things i happened upon that piqued my interest. it's been a long while since i've written a poem.
it's been a long while since i've written much of anything. #writersblock
i discovered that april is national poetry month, and suddenly felt inspired to shake this writers block and put some pencil to paper. i know it's not going to be very good. i know it'll be a struggle. but there is so much trapped inside my head and heart, and maybe if i just try to free-write as much as possible, i can get out of this funk. don't be surprised if i don't post every day. don't be surprised if everything i do post is crap. we'll see how this goes, i'm not holding myself to anything.
so without further ado, poem 1/30 national writing month 2015:
there are still pieces of me that feel broken,
crevices where doubt and insecurity creep in.
you look at those parts with such disgust,
your disdain dripping from your tongue,
that i find myself covering them up with masking tape.
it's not your job to fix what you did not break.