• philosophic_firefly 6w

    poets never write shit.
    they write what they think
    what they are
    and what they want and imagine.
    we should respect every poet

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    poet poem and poetry

    there was a poet
    who was a poem itself
    but didn't know that.
    he just used to write
    shit of his mind,
    grief in very brief
    and the cold history of
    human heart.
    he was healthy, wealthy
    and wise but silent.
    he was in love with someone
    and that someone was
    in love with someone else.
    he understood
    he deserves nothing
    but shit, so he started
    to smoke his all dreams
    and plans.
    he broke himself like a glass
    with full of wisdom.
    finally he ruined his own life,
    beauty and perspective.
    just for his beloved.
    he was so afraid of
    losing her,
    he hated every night
    himself and burnt his own
    heart to the poison of
    illusion and imagination.
    he locked himself in a room
    and became a roommate of
    one's own.
    he again found a world
    where pen and poetry
    were his relief once.
    he poured out his heart
    and guilt and thoughts
    and feelings and emotions
    and disillusioned soul.
    he completed that work
    into a poetry
    and then lied on the floor
    again smoked
    all his favourite
    next day he didn't wake up.
    he never woke up again.
    and after ten years of his death
    his beloved came
    into existence,
    existence of its own
    checked and read his work
    so profoundly, so deeply.
    and she was in love with him.
    she started weaving
    in her dreams
    and wrote so many eulogies
    to his work.
    today both are no longer
    among us
    but we always remember
    both of them.
    the one who thought
    his life and his poems are shit
    and the one who existed
    just to give
    the meaning of his life.

    Philosophic firefly