When I look back at the past
and all I have written,
my literary evolution is
clear for all to see.
From forced rhythms to
failed attempts at rhymes,
From forced metaphors to
some outright lies,
my mistakes were varied and wide.
But I have learned
from them all,
the rises and the falls.
I have learned to write
what I know and nothing more,
to listen to the voices of the quiet
and speak for them.
I reckon now that was the
point of all the mistakes,
it's better I make them
on my story than theirs.
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