I question my talent all the time
beat myself to death about it
I wonder who am I kidding
my writes are so piddeling

So I do what a dark poet does
I hurt myself to still feel real
my life means little to me
for I only live for poetry

Alone in my dark realms
I can talk to the dead
they ask me to come with them
tell me it would be a better world

Yet I am far to bitter to welcome death
I still have too much to accomplish
and I mean to die when ready
with my silver pen in my hand


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris