I wrote a poem today,
describing a sinister thought; about the pains of the heart.
Tormented until decay,
all emotions draining away.
And as I poured my soul into words,
a swift destruction overcame my art,
and in a second it was torn apart.
As I sat in broken shock,
the loss managed to open a lock.
One that kept my mind, heart and soul jailed,
but now the rusty lock has failed.
For I recognize this loss is the same as in life,
One molded with such effort; destroyed in strife.
And like I will write a poem I will love once more,
and with it I will grow at my very core.