A lot of poetry tends to be letters in one form or another. Things we could address to someone who’s affected us in some way over the course of our lives, who may or may not ever read the poem you’ve heatedly scrawled out on a graphic app and thrown up on social media. This particular facet of the genre isn’t really known for producing awe-inspiring work – its more likely to produce meandering and cliche-riddled epithets on pain and how a particular speaker was wronged in some way, if you ask me. But that doesn’t speak to the whole body of this end of the medium, and I think that there’s a lot of potential in something of this form done with some genuine thought and drive.
But you can’t deny that there’s a lot of appeal to the form as it is, regardless of whether or not the end result is done well – something cathartic about pulling from the deepest recesses of yourself and the words you never got to say, and shouting them into the void.