Poetry is as dark as night
It is a mortal sin which crawls like bugs under my skin and makes me think
Sweet painful absolute thoughts
Of ****** truths and naked insults.

Poetry, you beast, foul creature I've possessed
You make me try to see myself
Make me try and let the walls down and
Drop my achy mouth from its plastic smiles.

Don't make me understand, or realise
That all will be better soon
Don't sing praises and preach quotes
Of rainbows and green fields.

Let me wallow in my misery
Moan of 'oh woe the world is cruel to me'
Bypassing guilt and self hatred and
Eye opening openness.

Don't fill my ears with cries of
'Could have been worse'
'At least you're not them'
'You have a family'
'Don't be so selfish'.

Poetry you sinful pleasure, you crooked slash across my throat
Don't force me to call you beautiful
When you are treacherous
And push me too far.

I want
For once
To cry
And not say to myself
'at least you don't want to die'.

I want
To sing my problems
And
Hear no snide comments
About how 'I aint the only girl with issues'

Poetry, you expressionistic trench-coat
Shield me with your overused rhymes and metaphors
Oh, poetry, I beg of you, curl your arms around me tight
So I won't feel so cold with only myself

And those voices

Begging

Tauntingly

Pleading

With me not to cry.

Poetry, treasure trove of my soul
Let me pour all my crap into you
So its gone
From me
And I don't have to carry it any longer
With red raw hands and splintered nails
From scratching at the surface too long.

Poetry, tree for me to burn black and blue
Let me bruise you
Let me tear my pages
Draw insulting doodles on your skin
Covering my writing.

Poetry is my deepest valley
Filled with things I just can't say
Piled high with problems I don't want to comprehend
Compressed until people just

Look away

And convince themselves.