I don't know how to Write Poetry.

I don't know how to write poetry.
The stanzas and the rhyming
with all the lines and the timing.

Whatever that was, took me ten minutes to write.

And that's when I realized my problem.
What muse would inspire me to write that?
Yep. None.
So I tried to start to listen to my muses.

But it's a little hard.
Considering before this class all I knew about Muses were they're the tan ladies who sang all the songs in Hercules.
But I learned,
And I listened.

To write about things you just don't do.
Going into an empty theater and sitting by the only person in there.
To write things you just don't say.
"I love you." on a first date.

And all I had around me when that came to me, was soap.
In the shower, I didn't let Larry take my symphony.
I listened to my first muse.

Then on my way to school.
I had to pull over. My second muse; my second symphony.
Hate. Why do we have it?
And why do we hate having it.

The same thing can go for love.
Why do we have it?
And why do I, personally, hate having it.

I just don't know.
Why is this all so important to me.
Maybe it's the same reason I care than I don't know how to write poetry.
Or why I was invited to the Muse Cafe on Facebook but was too ashamed to show up.
Or why I took a picture of a sad chair from the internet.

Poetry.
It needs to be real, and I guess I'm not.
Or maybe I'm the only real thing in this fake world.

But still. I don't know how to write poetry.