I didn't write this poem
A certain familiarity of pain did
This is not some art, this poem
It's all the shadows that my brain hid
Why do you read, this poem
Does it tell you who I am and will be?
There's pain right here, this poem
I look for a cure, you call it melancholy
It's still better to write, this peom
You'll say it's better than getting drunk
There's dark ecstasy here, this poem
I'm no different from a junkie in a bunk.
-I want to stop writing today,
just can't
Al
- Author: Alan R (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: January 2nd, 2024 02:44
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 9
Comments2
Dark fragrance ...
I think so too, poetry is dark fragrance
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