Water Bottle

I don’t always feel like writing poems.
The blanket of my obligation lays
oppressively on top of me, but I
complain and fight against my restraints as
if anyone other than me chose this
particular burden. At least I’ve come
to accept the shitty work as well, not
go berserk whenever I doubt a line’s
greater worth. I put these extreme demands
on my writing to make the process seem
more exciting, when really it’s little
more than feelings and short stories in verse,
the trouble coming from perfectionist
desire that they not all sound so rehearsed.

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