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.

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