.

As I cried
and cried
and cried,

I longed to bleed
the words
poisoning
the tip of my tongue
till within,

As I wrote
and wrote
and wrote,

The tears had
faltered
sighed
and
settled,

Perhaps
poetry held me up
when I was
most alive,
And it still
carries me on
as I break and shed.


.

You contribute to poetry in ways I can't explain.
Don't be persuaded to believe your writing is in vain,
No matter what they say.