I Wish To Clean Up the Soup Someday

In the depths of verses penned in ink and thought, There lies a fear that lingers, unbesought. To press delete, to erase what once was wrought, But courage falters, leaving dreams uncaught. Years have passed, yet still the words remain, Etched on the pages, a poetic chain. Some born of passion, some from youthful pain, Yet in each line, a story to sustain. I look back on my younger days, Seeing flaws in the verses, tangled in a haze. Yet within the chaos, a spark ablaze, A journey of growth, through life's maze. To clean up the soup, a daunting task, To let go of the words, to unmask. But in the poetry's essence, a bask, In the beauty of creation's flask. I hesitate, unable to concede, Afraid to lose what I once agreed. But in the hesitation, a seed, Of bravery blossoms, a poet's creed. For within the lines, a tale complete, Of struggle, growth, and words so sweet. To press delete, a daunting feat, Yet in letting go, a new heartbeat.