Butterflies come flying out [poetry]

The Poem That Isn't a Poem

God fucking dammit I have no idea what to write
and all I want to do is put these words in my head onto paper
because my mind feels like it's racing,
but there's nothing in there?
There's no thoughts of doubting myself or anything.
It's just a big pit of writers block,
but it feels all panicked,
and my hands feel jittery.
So I'm just jotting things down as I think of them,
and pushing enter here and there I guess.
Now it looks like a poem,
doesn't it?
Well no,
not really.
That's okay.
Because
it doesn't
really matter
anyways,
does it?