Birthing Poetry

You have to live life to write life
But I've been too busy living to be writing
Feeling emotions instead of creating them
Igniting the party instead of celebrating them
I'm wearing the dress instead of addressing the hem
and I'm not sure what will stem from these unkept seams
Because my reality has been sleeping with my dreams
Searching for myself instead of finding it
I'm falling 
Free falling 
And my only parachute is me
But versions of myself managed to flee
The one who wrote with her heart
Instead of wore it on her sleeve
And I can't breathe
Only inhale
Because sharing everything is getting stale
Taking in the takeover
Because who the fuck wants to sleep during a sleep over
Or hang during a hang over
I just want to be the poetry
Not write it
And aspirations tell me to fight it
This urge to be the art
Not create it
Desire is potent because you can never sate it
I shift
I drift
Catch a whiff 
Of inspiration
Dabble in deliberation
And sit
Beside my fear
That the words echoing off my finger tips
Won't be as good as the one that dripped off my lips
Last night
Because when I stand under the spotlight
Mine is dying
Frying under the pressure
To impress her
The me that hates herself 
That knows no satisfaction
Fame or wealth
That puts poems on the shelf
Never to be published
Because they aren't damn good enough
That stuffs my sentiments
Like sediments
Clogging my veins
Compressing my brains
Ripping the reins
Putting a hole in self control
Saying that even though it doesn't reach the ceiling
The mic is still a pole
And stripping is just ripping your self respect
You know you don't need to be so direct
Let everyone expect your most private thoughts
Give them a chance to take the most brutal shots
You can't complain someone got under your skin
When you're the one who let them in
So is it such a sin to resist the wish to do more than exist
And just be
Take it in and see
Instead of birthing poetry?


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