My strokes are messy,

Each word more testy

But each more text is less me. [1]

In high school,

I saw seas in a nude beach piece

But rude miss teach saw C's,

So I saw C but she shall see

Like a seesaw a word is weight. [2]

But nobody wants to wait,

So now my words are digitized

To a congestible size for

Convenience is the con of Venus,

And I refuse to prostitute my genius. [3]

Cause my miss stress is intentionally hidden

And my ill written passage is mine,

So its not all good riddance

To the passage of time. [4]

Like an ex on my mind,

You will find the annex of my mind

In the context,

And please don't think it's a contest.

[1] - I've always had terrible handwriting but at the same time feel that I lose something when I text or type instead of write.

[2] - this is a made up story to make the point that my teachers couldn't read my handwriting and I did poorly sometimes because of it. The story goes that I was writing about the sea at a nude beach but my teacher thought I was writing about boobs. Obviously, you couldn't confuse those two "sea" and "c" in writing, but if you hear it, it sounds the same. The point I was trying to make was that different forms of expression can be different, if you hear it rather than see it, could extend to typing vs writing.

[3] - here I'm talking about turning to typing instead of writing. It's convenient, my teachers can read and I can edit/change whenever. But convenience can be a curse, like if love becomes convenient.

[4] - This part is saying that my mistakes and bad handwriting are mine, they are a part of me and belong to me. With the new technology, typing, we lose a part of us.