Its brightness compels me to peek through the truth
To observe the gray
To listen to stories told by painted lines
And to find my way
through channels dug by grief

The bright flamed dame

Between light and dark
She walks the gray
A place where good and evil
Can share no blame

For she knows
The night is just a complement
To the day

And without the duality
A reality you can not
Maintain

You’re not a poet because you know those ‘fancy’ words
You’re a poet because every word you write comes straight from your heart

You’re not a poet because you feel alone
You’re a poet because pen and paper are your biggest companions

You’re not a poet because you understand emotions better
You’re a poet because you let them flow freely

You’re not a poet because people admire your work
You’re a poet because you write for your own contentment and not for people's consent

You are not a poet because you’ve failed in love
You’re a poet because you’ve been in love deeper than anyone else

You’re not a poet because you are strong
You’re a poet because you don’t hide your weaknesses

You’re not a poet because you can heal hearts
You’re a poet because you know what it means to be broken






              ©words of a withering soul