Becace you can't spell Poem without EMO

[maze2010]

This is the first poem that I am turning in to the prof. It bemoans the fact that I have no idea what the hell I'm doing in this class. It also sucks. Makes sense really

Poetry

Poetry is impressionistic painting
Composed of the colors between blue and green
I look at it without seeing it
I read it without hearing it
The words mean nothing to me
There is a gap between them and my inartistic mind
A chasm of insurmountable distance

I am color blind

I watch others greet colorful phrases
And lyrical verses
Like one would a friend
Wasting time with childish fancies
As I stand with my matter-of-fact
And distant texts
Brow furrowed with concentration
Studying works of grave importance

I wonder if I am missing something