I don’t want to write a poem.
Why am I forced to?
Poems aren’t for me,
Maybe someone else in my family tree,
But I think my choices should be free.
Maybe because I don’t want to show them,
Maybe because my ideas don’t flow.
Everyone says that poetry is a “hidden gem”,
But I don’t think so.
Maybe in May,
Maybe someday,
Maybe in another unexpected way,
I’ll see why people love poetry.