I’m scared of these words
That their fruit’s the worst
Pushing and plowing
Wishing, endowing
Granting them power
Tart, puckered, and sour
I hold a mirror
To my nose, clearer
To see the fogging
Post mental flogging
Where I was going
I don’t know, knowing
Hatred, reluctance
Grow in abundance
Daring to compare
My talents to theirs
I rolly polly
In my shell, polling
Friends and family
Smile amiccably
But love/hate feedback
To grow, I need that
Manure on my dreams
Steaming, self-esteem
It sucks balls that all
Despite callings calls
I’m culling poems
Pull punches, owe them
Nothing, but feeling
Shy, harvest healing
Only show best fruit
Digging at my roots
But folly or flop
I state, I won’t stop