A Poem about My Poetry

I am thinking of writing a poem

And so thats what I am doing.

But all the while

while I'm sitting here

My mind is absolutely racing

Will people like what I write?

Will the rhymes make sense?

Do they notice when I think

Of clever rhythms and space?

Is it grand when I think of things

Greater than life and death.

Or is it merely curiosity

and then a stifled yawn?

Before I make a fool of myself

Or spill some hidden truth

I think I'll end the piece

(But really

Can it be called a piece?

If nothing has been said?

Is it worth my time to write?

If I only speak of things already spoken?

Or more importantly, better left unheard?)