One truth to remember

And by now you should already know it.

I am a really awful poet.

For instance, one crime of mine

Is that I must try to rhyme.

I know I shouldn’t do it so much

But I always need my poetic crutch.

Clearly, I am not great

Like those named Poe, Shakespeare or Yeats.

Or any of those who provided us

With so many vivid escapes.

I cannot follow rules.

Don’t like em.

And I have terrible, terrible syllable construction.

But what can I do?

I care not for its function.

My poetry is not for their test.

I would not care for their pretentious grade,

Anyways.

It is not for some job.

I am not looking to get paid.

You don’t need to tell this amateur

That he’ll never be sharp like them.

Trust me, I get it.

But darn it, they began somewhere.

They were not scribbling in air.

So I will continue to do it.

And I will do it for me

Because it is what I please.

But more importantly,

What I want you to see

Is that you should try too.

So pick up that pen

And give it a go.

And forget all the rules.

Forget those stupid, constricting, elitist rules.

They’re for the birds.

None of them matter

Even if they call you a fool.

Cause the one thing I know,

What I found out fast,

The one thing I will promise to you:

Poetry can be your freedom

And that is a greater truth.