The lack of words that come to mind
Searching the world, I'm trying to find
Simple words to scramble together
To describe my mood or maybe the weather.
I'm sitting here lost in my thoughts
Mending pieces, tying knots.
My poems aren't perfect, their frayed at the ends
The most simple sentences I'm trying to bend
To create one big complicated poem
So people can find the hidden message in them
But all that comes out is straight to the point.
Like "The pig makes a sound. It goes oink."
When a real poet writes it sounds so sincere
Like "Music through the wind that I hear."
They use big words and sounds so deep
Some write good so they make you weep.
I wish I was that good at writing a poem
But one day soon I"m going to show 'em
That I'm just as good as any out there,
I'm going to write deep one day, I swear.
