Yes, This Is My Poem

I’m not good at writing; I don’t know why I try,
Mostly, I think, because I have to get by.
Everyone else is amazing, I know,
But for some strange reason, my amazingness doesn’t show.

I work and I try really hard I swear!
But sometimes it makes me want to rip out my hair.
I pretend to shrug it off, like it is nothing,
When really I want it to turn into something.

So with no confidence I’ll continue to write,
Staying up late, much too late in the night.
With coffee beside me and some scratch paper near,
I work something out, but not anything good I fear.

I don’t even know why I’m rhyming this piece,
I didn’t intend to, it was just a release
Of feelings I have for the moment, but soon
I’ll feel different again, like say, tomorrow afternoon.

It is now 11:00 at night and I’m tired,
My bed is all warm and I want to retire.
Wait a minute, what’s that I see?
I just created a poem…wow that was easy.