It's not all black and white

What is a poet?

I look at poets and think,
I don't speak or sound the way they do,
calm and yet so full of passion.
Their words flow so effortlessly and I,
stumble over mine.
Can I still call myself a poet if I don't even rhyme,
if the words I write is me running from myself?
Can I call myself a poet,
if my stomach runs marathons when reading it out loud?
They come from the pit in my stomach,
or the holes in my heart,
you see,
I hide behind a book,
keyboard,
or just the words that you are reading.
A poet without a voice or face,
My identity scrambled across pages and lost within vowels.
Can I call myself poet,
if my poems don't always make alot of sense,
for the poems I write
is me.