I wonder, after I write,
if it matters, or should I just rub it all away.
Is it me just overthinking,
yet being calm, composed and indifferent.
Those big words that people use,
the ones I never get a hang of.
Emotions, expressions, adjustments.
Am I a poet, or a poem?
Or just a joke, in this world of jesters.
I wonder, everytime after I bleed,
Was it worth it?
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