I once stumbled upon the idea that bad poetry springs from real emotion. It's only now that I've come to terms with the truth in that notion—that my writing might not fit everyone’s taste, but it is undeniably my own. And in that, there’s a certain kind of freedom. What matters most is that it rings true to me. Still, I dream of finding a community that sees the world through the same lens, a place where my unfiltered way of pouring emotion onto the page is not only understood but shared. A space where my words—charged with vivid imagery and aching honesty—might transport you, and in that journey, we’ll find something real to connect over.