We are not like the others we write. We are not always understood for we are not like the ones around us. We think, speak, and dream in a different way, abstractly, poetically, magically. We the poets are constantly arguing with ourselves. We argue about what we want, we argue over the possibility and the consequences. We as poets have a responsibility to tell the truth, tell a story whether it’s our own or merely improv. We find inspiration from art, songs, life, trees, love, anything and everything. We the poets are individuals; we are far from typical for we have a story to tell. We the poets are like you, but instead of keeping our words inside we transfer them to paper. WE the poets are not common, or maybe we are but like lovers we’re hard to find, we are in disguise. She writes about the past, history, herself. He writes about the disillusioned, the hurt, his experiences, and the people who have taken his breath away. I write to vent, I write to know where I am, and an idea of where I’m going, I write just to tell a story sometimes true, sometimes improv. We are not like the others, we may not be understood but we will always be heard by each other, we the poets will listen, and if no one will listen to us, then we’ll write.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem