A poem about how I've lost my confidence for writing. |
When I was younger I used to read poems out loud From Shel Silverstein books And a collection of poems by random poets That at that age, I couldn’t yet understand. I read them to willing audiences— Usually my stuffed animals or Maybe my cat if I could convince her to sit still long enough And the same with my siblings. I used to make funny voices for different characters And pretended the stories told Were my own. I used to write stories like the ones I read About animals that could talk And magical happenings. I used to fold the pages of Dozens of pieces of computer paper Into booklets And handed them to mom And she was so proud And I loved having her read them. Until I got older and I started reading more advanced novels And started writing more advanced stories, And then I was embarrassed to have her read them. And now I am embarrassed to let anyone read anything I write Let alone read aloud anymore Because I am not a poet. I am not a writer. I am a girl with big hopes and huge dreams And small hands and limited vision. I am a girl who won’t even read to her stuffed animals anymore. I am a girl whose hands forget how to hold pencils the way I used to, With the point downward and the stories inside. I am a girl who, Pushed away by literary critics she loved, Pulled away from dreams because they’re not realistic. I am a girl who, Crying at night, Pulls out a notebook and writes for herself alone. |