And I hate writing because you have to do it just right
You have to say something intriguing and you have arrange all the words perfectly
You loose the passion and the rythym when you realize that that you’re words
Sound awkward and put together poorly compared to JD or Frost.
And no matter how hard I try, no idea of mine seems unique
And none of the words seem to fit together smoothly.
I ramble and I say 'and' a bit too often.
And every time I think I’ve got something, I read it over, then cross it out
And crumple it up, because it just isn’t good enough
But what is?
And to who, and for how long?
Oh what a frightful thing it is to attempt poetry.
for the girls and boys who will never be future poets
And are just starting to know it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem