Black as night, cold as ice
the heat melts away the waxy
wane, I hold the fire that
burns deep inside my poetic soul.

Shackles binde me to the
words that cage my mind
in this poetic design.

Thorny roads overgrown
by poetic ****'s of all
kind's.

The sentencing is final,
my guilt is plighting
my soul is fighting this
poetic venom that bit my
creativity turning me...

Poetry, poetry brings me
to the edge of reality.

Guide's me through the dark,
candle light feed's my venomous
needs. Its smoke invades my
being.

Leaving me in the window of
your mind's to write this
venomous design.

Poetry is my venom
I am its poet a candle
lit in the darkness of
a window somewhere
in time.

©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton