Monday, May 10, 2010

self

A poet's heart seems
forever broken.
Despair and ache
around every cold corner.
The truth in this
matter, however, is that
we are the deep. The
endless collection of
thought and feeling.
We say what the world
bleeds.

My attempt at an introspective look at why I write poetry.

1 comment:

  1. We say what the world bleeds. That's awesome.

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