I'll write another poem with this same title someday. I swear to you, kids.
Questions: I feel like this poem is a little immature. It doesn't seem to go well from one idea to the other--the space between "touched...but I know..." seems awkward. Also, it seems to me like this doesn't really move in stanzas like it's supposed to (especially the "die" part.) Thoughts? Comments? Critique?
CREDIT: So, I accidentally stole the first half of this ("I" to "touched") from another poet (from a slightly altered version on tumblr.) >:l I had no idea until someone pointed it out (thanks toxic-nebulae .) I have a rather bad memory, so I probably read it somewhere, forgot it, and then remembered it, thinking I was struck by a muse when I was really thieving.
So, all credit for that part to Brett Elizabeth Jenkins.
If anyone feels like I should take this down because of this issue, please tell me.