JUST YET ANOTHER SHOW OFF

Lately, I have only been introspecting

And wondering about my writing

Wondering what makes me write?

Wondering what makes me create?

For I’m neither bright nor smart

Nor writing to find myself a tart.

Am I writing for the sake of writing;

Or merely to hear my own self farting?

Do I derive joy from all that I write;

Or to forget the pain of the jockstrap bite?

Do I feel that I am akin to the primal creator;

Or am I merely just another boredom hater?

They say a tree is known by the fruit it bears

And a poet is known by the poems he shares

Then what will I be known as in the distant future

I’m sure they’ll call me yet another pathetic creature

A creature without substance; yet another show off

And therefore I am now glad to just be effing off

Recently, I have been going through a phase of introspection on why I write. I find that writing is becoming more of an exhibitionistic tendency and one tends to show off their linguistic skills and knowledge of things that others may not have or a different perspective than what others have. This has therefore led me to wonder if I too am merely showing off by writing the crap that I do. If my writing is merely an attempt to show off my skills or lack thereof, then I think it would be better if I stop writing and just lie low.

This so called poem is just the outcome of such a state of mind.