Poem Twelve (06/13/2025)

I watch as my finger slips over to the backspace key
The words now vanish into thin air quite easily
The line erases the letters that were once written on the blank page
I am a jester with no skills and no stage

A fool that fumbles endlessly to each day to the next
What justifies my self-hubris if a false poet like me fails to write the text?
Ego permeates me with nothing to show for such pride
Another mask to bury the grifter inside

Artist? What a talentless hack I must be to label myself as such
I must be an elder lady with many pearls to clutch
Truthfully I am aware that I am among the many who has felt this way
Yet that does not soothe me from the shame I currently hide from display

Fraud Fraud! I yell out to no audience whatsoever
Only to myself as I wail and bicker about my pointless endeavors
Perhaps this poem will too be erased
I, the sole writer, am the only one who may witness this atrocious disgrace.