Writing

Where did my poetic voice go ? Creativity ? Trying to signal Maya Angelou that spoke to me. A struggle to continue Irony. Writing a poem that perceived me. "Life is like a house and failure is a hole in the wall ." Now a hole in my credibility. The power to turn words to poetry But what makes me worthy ? The empty lines is all i see. The repetition of the sound "E" This poem is killing me. Staying away from preschool clichès This is dishonorably the last thing you want to see But she wrote it and stupidly called herself Me.