Elegance was perhaps, my first mistake as a new born street poet-- The assumption that my lines of verse had to appear refined & exotic, with aureate wording carrying the touch of melodrama, caused my works to appear childish & comically unripened. Having been caught in the moment was perhaps, my second mistake as a fledgling writer-- The rush of emotion & thought left my verse devoid of sound & organic structure, resulting in poems that were perceptibly rushed; not carefully penned & constructed, like verse created with the pen of a mature poet. Arrogance and indifference was perhaps, my third mistake as a naive & young street poet-- Ignoring wholesome criticism & stern advice, I continued to repeat my mistakes, remaining oblivious to having made them. My verse was therefore without sensible humility. I could mention other mistakes, but these are the ones which most affected my verse & the direction of my pen, & therefore are worth pointing out. Despite having made such mistakes, I am without shame or regret since my work, though slowly, has grown stronger from these blunders. Perhaps the worst thing an abecedarian poet could do, in the course of his calling, is avoid making mistakes-- the ultimate blunder one can commit. A poet with faults that lie in wait, is an immature poet left unchanged-- a poet who remains vulnerable & vestigial; easy prey amongst fierce & savage poets.