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Plath and Bukowski
I don't like to have
People read my poems, or any
Of my writings for that matter.
My fear of failure
Is as thick as
The Berlin wall in its prime.
And I exhale doubt,
Spreading my weakness
To all.
What few words that
I let others eyes view
Usually consists of Plath,
Maybe some Bukowski
And various others.
I’ve cursed myself
To plagiarize my favorite
Troubadours of the written word
So that my fellow friends
Become speechless
Of the fake raw talent
That I wished I possessed.
