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The Unwanted Poet

By @corikane


Don’t tell me

what you think – of my words, of my sins.

You have no claim

on what I am/I’ve become.

You never listen/ed

to my rhymes, my song inside.

You only hear yourself,

the lies, the distortions of your soul.


Maybe, or maybe not,

we’re bound to be close (as close as two people standing next to each other).

Maybe, or maybe not,

you tried being there for me (and I let you for a time).

Maybe, or maybe not,

we’ve resurrected this friendship (a relationship, call it what you want).

But maybe, or maybe not,

I’ve stopped wanting that with you.


My words

are mine.

My voice

is tired.

My self

is leaving you behind.

You never appreciated

a text above the fame of its author.

How can you appreciate mine?

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