Apr 2020
All poets speak of muses
To light their way of verse
For us who've lived abuses
Our muse need not bring us mirth
For sorrow is a motivation
It's a loss that guides my pen
My rhymes take form of devastation
My verse speaks of the end
Tragedy sparks fire in my fingers
With bleak outlooks for tomorrow
This saddened spirit always lingers
She's my muse, born out of sorrow
To light their way of verse
For us who've lived abuses
Our muse need not bring us mirth
For sorrow is a motivation
It's a loss that guides my pen
My rhymes take form of devastation
My verse speaks of the end
Tragedy sparks fire in my fingers
With bleak outlooks for tomorrow
This saddened spirit always lingers
She's my muse, born out of sorrow
I have always been that person who is spurned to action after something bad happens. It's a sad way to be sometimes but I find my best poems speak of some of the worst times of my life. Keep hunting your muse and hope you don't find it in the same box that I have.
