The Strength of Poetry

Pain in its cruelest form,
Breaks you from the inside
Tears you, kills you.
I realise I lost the cause when i loved.
Or is it worth the pain?
Is a heart so startved that it courts pain?
Or am I but a poor beguiled girl?

No i shall not begrudge myself
Of the credit of true love.
but I got lost,
lost sight of myself.
So all the tears were afterall
Truly necessary to clear the haze.
To tell me that no one's worth it.
To impress me with pain
So Id know to love myself
And not give space for a smiter.

A smiter he might not be,
But when was poetry just
To anyone but the poet.
Ah! dear poetry-
The strength
In my frailest hours.

Destiny

Destiny is never just that,
or just this.
it never was meant to be like this
But it never was meant to be anything.
It is what I made it
And I dont regret anything
For mistakes are never wrong.

But before I say I made a mistake,
I should hold myself firmly
Set my sights on what I want
And walk the mile.
I never wanted to get hurt,
But Id realised much before
That 'tis cowards who hide behind fear
Of hurting themselves.
I afterall, am not one.
I dared to love...
So if I'm hurt now I'm capable
Of moving on.
Its still me and my destiny
That I'm writing.