Please do not praise my words as beautiful
there is minimal beauty in feeling sorrow,
it is the feeling of a steel ribcage carved hollow,
of emptied contents and abandoned cubicles.
My words are the discordant note of a musical,
it is not a hint of unique creation like Picasso,
but it mimics the breaths of Vincent Van Gogh,
so please do not praise my words as beautiful.

I do not wish nor want for beauty
I write to rekindle the flame that has died,
the spark that simply shelters and survive,
I meld words with tear-stained eyes alike rubies.
You do not applaud accidental spillage on a canvas
so please do not applaud the by product of sadness.