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.
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1 comment:
I'm not much into poetry///
but you should be more regular i think.. the last one was pretty good.
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