This life of blackened poetry’s
Atrocious, slowly killing me—
a poison, psychologically.
Of course I see life preciously,
as any schoolboy prodigy.
Alas, the lens of poetry
views beauty oh-so-dismally.
Evicted from my memory
is every joy that comes to me.
The dampened soul I’ve come to be
detests each thread of sanity—
So in this life, my only plea’s
Please spare me from the vanity.
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 2:42 AM UTC
This life of blackened poetry’s
Atrocious, slowly killing me—
a poison, psychologically.
Of course I see life preciously,
as any schoolboy prodigy.
Alas, the lens of poetry
views beauty oh-so-dismally.
Evicted from my memory
is every joy that comes to me.
The dampened soul I’ve come to be
detests each thread of sanity—
So in this life, my only plea’s
Please spare me from the vanity.
A revision of a 17-year-old poet's poem from his 34-year-old self.