PoetryToTheMasses Weekly Feature 159

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There is no poem from outside dA this week as I have not received any suggestions.

UndeservedI don't deserve to be an artist.

I don't know how to hold deep meaningful conversations with strangers.

I don't lament at night about a lover I have lost.

I don't watch the white smoke ebb into darkness.

I don't spend lonely nights admiring the true beauty of the world.

I don't sleep restlessly from the truth of suffering within this world.

I don't lie through my smiles or struggle to create them.
But I do think I am a writer.

I am completely, irreparably damaged.

I cry all night over old words and emotional baggage.

I weep over my lost innocence.

I spend nights wishing for skin against my own

I long for insomnia to inspire me.

I beg for worlds to collide so I can breathe.
So am I writer really?

Or just another misguided artist?
- UntamedUnwanted

I don't deserve to be an artist.

I don't know how to hold deep meaningful conversations with strangers.

I don't lament at night about a lover I have lost.

I don't watch the white smoke ebb into darkness.

I don't spend lonely nights admiring the true beauty of the world.

I don't sleep restlessly from the truth of suffering within this world.

I don't lie through my smiles or struggle to create them.

But I do think I am a writer.

I am completely, irreparably damaged.

I cry all night over old words and emotional baggage.

I weep over my lost innocence.

I spend nights wishing for skin against my own

I long for insomnia to inspire me.

I beg for worlds to collide so I can breathe.

So am I writer really?

Or just another misguided artist?

If you like this poem, please  the original!