poetry about poetry
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Dear Poetry,
Thank you for always being there.
I mean, I'd be worried if you ran away from me
Black scribbles flying off the page making me double check my prescriptions
Poetry.
No one truly defines it.
Not even Mr. Webster truly captures the essence
the emotions of
love
happiness
wealth
determination
life
hate
anger
sadness
Like the wings of an angel, you allow me to soar
On to utopian universes and entire new worlds. Rusted
Gears crank in my brain as obscure
Orders of midnight letters jump off of the stark white page to
the spaces between buildings feel like commas
if you’re not a writer bc you don’t think of writing like
a living, try living like a writing