A Poem I Think I Wrote

I need to write a poem,
Not because I need to.
Not because of scrolling words a non-existent audience needs to read.
Not because the music in my head is so loud, I have to bleed.
Maybe there’s a song in my heart or I want to plant a seed.
I’m bored at 10pm when I should be asleep.
I want to fill pages when I don’t know what I’m feeling.
Not the not knowing that means something’s wrong and the ink turns to goop.
But the still not knowing, when nothing is particularly wrong or right, and you’re just tired
Yet you know everything is wrong and right, and you just feel inspired.

Take out the notebook.
Is it just to fill pages?
Just to hear yourself think?
To spill ink?
To feel legitimate?
To stay up one more hour because you started it?
Or is there more?

Cuz yesterday you wrote a love song, then scrapped it.
You’re writing more because you’re learning to write when you’re happy
Or when you just feel normal–
Even though you know there’s no such thing.
Writing happy, normal, tired
(Anything other than sludge and slime and more goop)
Is a challenge.
But you’re ready.
Cuz that nonsense was normal for too long.

You’re tired of it.
Your general state is happy now–
When you don’t think too hard,
Or you think hard enough.
It’s a paradigm shift.
And the poems you write should reflect it.

Like you’re a different person,
But you’re the same you’ve always been.
You just like yourself better
And thank God for making you you–
And giving you a crazy, normal, wonderful life.
And friends.
And family.
And self-respect.
And all the things you can let go of.
Including poetry.