This article 

comes in four parts.

the hurting

it began with an itch 

at the back of my neck

subtle,

tolerable.

but with every passing day

i began to find it

harder

to ignore.

dear rupi kaur

i know i'm not the first 

one to say it 

and i won't be the last.

i've tried to keep it shut

every time someone mentioned 

you or 

your work

i smiled and nodded

but what i really wanted to

ask them was 

"is that… poetry?"

the loving

your complete disregard for

sentence case

is commendable.

lack of punctuations 

other than full stops

and occasional commas

great.

i appreciate the 

rebelliousness of it.

it reminds me of street 

art.

a lot of the thoughts in 

your poems are nothing 

short of beautiful

they're bold, raw and 

even empowering at times.

the breaking

is this getting difficult

to read yet?

good 

you're starting to understand

my pain.

there is a lot to love

i wont deny that.

your 

messages are important

but the way you've

put them down on 

paper

sound all too familiar

they're nothing 

i have not heard before

they do not sound musical 

when read out loud

most of the pieces

are repetitive, clichéd and

no different 

from the thousand 

other tumblr posts.

but what has broken 

me the most

is the merciless 

hammering of the Enter key

over

and 

over

and

over again

until -

perfectly complete sentences

have been broken down

and placed in separate lines

stripped off of their impact

until -

all life has been

sucked out of them.

the healing

if there's one thing i've

learned from you

it is 

that the best way to heal is to

make art 

and this 

is my

form of catharsis.

it is difficult for me to digest

but i think i'm

ready to

accept that

if 

Duchamp's bicycle wheel

can be considered revolutionary,

and memes are

equivalent to art,

your work

can very well

be called poetry

and a good one at that 

cause 

there are tons of people

unlike me

who admire your work

and find solace in it.

i can surely appreciate that.

but even so 

i'd say this rant 

has better line breaks than

most of milk and honey.

Disclaimer: The writer only speaks for herself. Works of art are subject to criticism, and this is hers. If you hate her views, write a poem about it.