There’s this quiet expectation in poetry
That softness equals beauty.
That if you write gently,
You write well.
I don’t agree.
Because the world I’ve lived in
Has never been soft.
It’s been sharp.
Unpredictable.
Unforgiving.
And my writing reflects that.
I don’t sit down
Trying to sound pretty.
I write what it feels like.
And sometimes what it feels like
Is anger.
Is pressure.
Is a word that doesn’t belong in polite conversation.
And I’m not going to censor that
Just to make someone else comfortable.
For years
I hid my true self away
To make other people comfortable.
Fuck that.
That’s not kindness —
That’s an invisible cage.
There’s a place for profanity in modern poetry.
Not for shock.
Not for attention.
But for truth.
Because there are moments
Where a clean word won’t carry the weight.
Where anything softer
Would be a lie.
People mistake harsh writing
For lack of depth.
But I think it’s the opposite.
It takes honesty
To not soften your own experience.
To say:
This hurt
This broke me
This mattered
Without dressing it up.
That doesn’t mean I’m incapable of empathy.
I am.
But it’s something I choose.
And that choice matters.
Because empathy, for me,
Is not automatic —
It’s intentional.
We all have demons.
And that’s the beauty of poetry —
We can write about them
Without restraint,
Without judgement.
No filters.
No permission needed.
Just truth, laid bare on the page.
As you see in my Fractured Mind,
The Warrior Within,
And my Dark Poetry collection —
That edge is there.
But if you read my Little Bird Collection,
You’ll see the softer side of survival
In my poetry.
The contrast is there.
And that’s me —
Complexity in all its forms.
There are moments in my writing
Where something softer slips through.
A pause.
A quieter line.
A breath between the chaos.
And those moments?
They’re not weakness.
They’re contrast.
They’re what make the harder lines hit deeper.
I don’t write soft
Because the world hasn’t been soft to me.
But I do write truth.
And sometimes truth is:
Raw
Uncomfortable
Unfiltered
And unapologetically real.
If that makes my poetry harsh —
So be it.
I’m not here to make it pretty.
I’m here to make it felt.
And to let others know
They are not alone.
Because I know
What alone feels like.
It’s unforgiving.
Thank you for reading.
Your DislexicPoet 🖤