This poem has no flow to it at all....The main idea was lost in repetitive babble. I would call this a failed attempt to shake off writer's block. As for the title; it doesn't have one, as I couldn't think of one, so it's "Untitled 2" for now...

Who are you to judge my words?
Lest I present them to you
As a part of my individual self.
The words on the tip of my tongue,
Flowing from the pen I hold,
Represent my own thoughts;
Thoughts that reflect my inner mind.
These words repel you,
Yet attract your attention all the same.
They can condemn me to hell,
As well as earn me praise.
These words express the workings of my mind,
The person whom has written them;
And you choose to judge them?
Turn them over;
Pick them apart,
Letter by painstaking letter;
And tell me, do you not see:
The one who's given them life?
These words are my own,
Expressions of my views.
To judge these words blindly,
Is to judge me.