Poetry lives in me
Poetry lives in me, unlike people who eventually leave
I can feel it running through my veins, flowing from my heart to the brain
Helping me pour my heart out, bleed my strangled thoughts into words
Soothing the pain, refraining me from going insane.
A sense of ecstasy trickles through my bones, I breathe to write
Knowing I am nowhere close to being the best, I still do
It replenishes my body with enough strength to stop me from feeling blue
It makes me feel alive. In my mind, it inflicts tiny flakes of hope
I see the reflection of pain in my poetry
But on my soul, when I wear it with pride, it illuminates with rapturous glee
Unsettling emotions hardly go hard on me, I now write them down
For, I live in poetry and poetry lives in me.