Thur 11: 00PM
Dear Diary,
It's now been 4357 days since I started writing poetry.
It started out so well.
My first poems showed promise.
Now, I question whether I will ever be a great poet.
When I sit down to write, no ideas come.
My latest strategy of writing poems with my own blood is not working out.
Since blood and poetry both come from the heart, I hoped it might help.
It hasn't.
Perhaps the blood of another would work.
The woman in the apartment below me, she seems nice.
We talked once, in the elevator.
I'll ask her over tomorrow.
bob eichen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/diary-of-a-mad-poet/
