I kept my poetry to myself,
They said it's virgin,
They said it has no origin,
And that it's too obvious,
They said I confused my adjectives with nouns,
How do they know maybe to me it was all about the sound,
What does it matter?
They said my metaphors were too complex,
Well maybe it was just my mind's reflex,
Actions of a mind in turmoil,
Someone said my dialog was just melancholic,
That the construction was just not emphatic enough,
Oh well I do apologize for forgetting the cheerfulness ingredient on your pizza,
May be am just a self proclaimed "bush" introvert,
Who can't even tell the difference between antonyms and synonyms,
Well ever since the rejection I have to admit I developed a morose mood,
It's sad really,
Guess that's why I stuck keeping my poetry to myself, made me more optimistic,
Could it be that am a child birthed in the error of "acronymity english"?
Let's ask the germans, since they invented the language,
I bet you those nomads never really knew that the conversations they had in pubs with bottles of rum would spread like bush fire in a tropical environment in winter,
I never really went to any "intellectual" colleges,
So you can understand I write to unfold my mind,
To bring to life what lays deep within my soul,
Don't really think much how it pens out on paper,
When I write am the master of the ending,
When I write am the master of the beginning,
When my pen, bleeds and the paper stains,
I unveil the curtains to my inner world,
It's not cryptic at all and wouldn't need mathematical geniuses to decipher what I really meant,
It's just simple and straight forward,
Guess that's why I write............
And I'll keep writing till one day, some dysfunctional noble intellects will stumble on one and say this kid was psychologically imbalanced.
Till then I will write and keep my poetry to myself.

Ouch! I like this. Balance is for losers anyway!!