As my futile attempt to write a poem comes to a close, <br />I wonder what the point is <br />What is the point of all the wasted hours, <br />all the heartache, <br />and all the metaphorical blood? <br />Who am I even writing for- myself or others? <br />Are my anguished hours necessary for another’s one moment of recognition? <br />And really, how deep can that recognition go, <br />Because no matter how hard I try, <br />no one will be able to know what I was thinking <br />when I wrote down my heart <br />for them to trample underneath their unforgiving criticism.<br /><br />Lynne Crandall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thoughts-on-poetry/
