Poem — Writing on an Empty Stomach

Why do I always write poetry

On an empty stomach? I type away

Always lost, never found

But typing away, on little time

I stare back at myself, at a screen

blanked by what I thought I would seem

 

I thought the world made sense when

you wrote it all down on a page

But it turns around and it slaps you

like a stupid and bitterly old sage

 

A lover will always quarrel

When they see you write

It does nothing ever more

that convince them: they are never right

 

I thought that anger taught writers

to harness what float in their minds

It was too complicated though, we are but fighters

 

Of sin and hate we learn to speak

But then turn it into lovely speech

And afterwards, our minds are not as bleak.

 

 

 

 

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