I am a poet

because I said I'd never be

and if I know anything about me,

is that the never's of my life

don't tend to agree.

I craft rhymes 

to bring laughs into the room.

I heard muses play with you

twice as much as an artist,

so I'll humor them through.

I shall describe in metaphors

the inspiration they brought,

majestic odes, sonnets to recall.

Nah! That sounds cheesy as fuck.

How about a pop song to come up strong?

But, last time I was on stage

it gave me the shivers.

I’ll crack in the first intermission,

performances aren’t something

I can deliver.

No, words are fine.

They provide peace of mind,

if only you assume 

nobody's reading them 

or leaving comments online.

Cause, you know?

I am easily offended,

that's why music won't do.

I'll be wondering if they are pretending

when they clap to my tune. 

Anyway, I'll tell people I'm a poet,

so the rumor can spread.

But wait ! Muses will come

expecting I don't curse, which I do,

thinking I write about love, which I don't.

Maybe I shouldn’t advertise.

Honestly, I prefer silly 

and cheeky remarks.

Will they find it improper

if I am joking all the time?

Oh well, I'll manage.

Yet, I feel sorry for my musical talent,

it's just that I can't take my piano anywhere,

it's hard to get good credentials, and

pen and paper, I can fit even in my underwear.

Yeah, poetry is perfect for me.

I can invent my own lingo if I'm ever bored.

Cocorrum, anyone?  I'll ask with a straight face.

Their confused but amused stares

will be worth the shameless zen.

Or am I overthinking it?

Maybe it’s not too late to be a painter.

Just kidding! 

Words were my only companions

through life's ruthless conundrums.

I’ll stick to them as I live,

as their crazy disciple.