Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2015
Poets, the disciples of the modern world.

Followers of the great Almighty Lord of
Alliteration and symbolism

Their eccentric natures make them the pariahs of this world.

We cannot wrap our minds around
The words they artfully speak,
So we refuse to accept them

Their eyes burn like fire in their skulls
As they stare you down from a podium,
In their hands they hold their own hearts
Which they have ripped out of their chests,
Holding them out as if asking for you to accept it from them, Wanting you to understand what every beat means

Poets are misunderstood beings,
Tortured creatures,
But they are far stronger than any others,
because they have the gall to speak their minds unforgivingly,
Bare their most inner secrets and struggles
To an audience of strangers

They are the quick of tongue,
Speaking faster than one's ear can hear,
But somehow they still manage to work themselves into your head With every word

They're parasites,
Infecting your mind and soul,
Tugging at you and driving themselves into your brain
Until their poems are all you think of

But they are not evil parasites.

They hurt us and make us feel to save us.
venn
Written by
venn  vermont
(vermont)   
2.9k
     Fawn and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems