the word ‘poetry’,
a fatigued outcry i buried,
in the light of the emotional burdens i carry,
i stumbled across these thoughts in a mortuary.

the word ‘poetry’,
whispered words from the wary,
uttered thoughts of the dreary,
emblazoned by a fuse that ignites your soul, leaving you hungry.

the word ‘poetry’,
acknowledged by people around the world globally,
should be used to tell stories,
especially tales with difficult backstories.

the word ‘poetry’,
is a haven for many,
yet no one has ever seen me
writing, when i’m drowning in the depths of my worries.

the word ‘poetry’,
so unnecessary.
so take this as a cautionary,
don’t post things up on the internet, without a proper commentary.

the word ‘poetry’,
a single word spoken in sanctuary,
dipped in blood soaked strawberries,
my life is woven through a series of just being empty.

the word ‘poetry’,
i am so angry.
how dare you, how dare she,
judge me for the ways i curb my insanity.

the word ‘poetry’,
i am afraid of it, you see.
i despise the way people look at me with sympathy,
as though what i wrote can only be about misery.

the word ‘poetry’,
people say i hoard all the negativity.
i stroke a finger across my wrist absently,
is it any wonder that death feels so friendly?

the word ‘poetry’,
i resign to the fate that normalcy,
is a consequence thats eludes even me,
for all i want is to be set free.