This Pixelated View Flickers

just another poem into the endless abyss

there's something

about reading amazing poetry

that's written by someone who's clearly

better at this than me

that makes me feel inconsequential.

i just...

i read words that flow like they

were born on an artist's tongue 

and crafted by the caresses of a blue moon sky

with

lines that shudder and bleed into one another,

poetry that's ALIVE

and I look at the carcasses that I shape

and continue sadly on with my deceased writing,

the words heavy and quick,

the rhythm a beat among a horse's hooves.

its like trying to paint a star upon the globe,

like searching the dead sea

for a tin can.

my poetry just can't compare,

so why do I even try?

The End

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