Kindness and Sugar.
How can I compare with Sylvia Plath?
Even taking my life, it will not do.
My poems, by comparison, are naff
and, simply, not able to affect you.
Memorised, she recites to me the verse.
Moved, as the unhappiness emerges,
through the talk of kindness and sugar first.
Sensitive tears as the feeling surges.
And me, well, I acknowledge true greatness.
Poetry, with its personal meaning.
Recognised by readers, the true sadness.
For her unsaveable nature, grieving.
Poems, by me, do not reach that distress.
Saving my life with sugar and kindness?