Poetry is not for the weak minds,
For with every verse written,
You must go to the depths of your soul
And ask your inner demons to sing.
You must march down to that haunted choir,
And face every weight that burdens you.
Every single tear and cry of misery,
Will be woven deep beneath the lines.
Upon arrival the devils will not sing, they'll scream.
And the howls reflect every cut and scar,
All the pain you've long since buried,
Only your defiance, will tame this grief.
And you will fail.
But your failure and its dissonance, will create beauty.
Poetry is not for the weak minds,
For you burn up in every verse written,
Yet determined you stand, turning your blood to ink,
And the screams of pain, into an echo of harmony.
- C.c
