Another Suffering Poet
When I feel bitter discontentment
I take out my poision pen to immortalize
The ones who have crushed
Me with their
Gigantic, concrete boulders
Like many before me
Who cried tears
Of overwhelming sadness
Lingering depression
And infinite lonliness
I have become one with them
For we all possess
The same quality
The need to be set free
Through the expression of
The thoughts that haunt our minds
We release our agony through our poetic prose
Our words are few
But, they speak volumes
About what lies inside us
For my creativity
Stems from the intensity
That roams within me
My open wounds
Exposed for all to view
When I compose
A melodic rhyme
It speaks of my angst
Through mystery
Making my reader
Look beyond the face value
Of my syntax
And search for the true meaning
Of which I was attempting to convey
My poetic talents
Can only bring miniscule relief
From what has been
Creeping up on me
Following me
My entire life
I hear the clock ticking
The hand is about to strike midnight
The fairytale is over
Time is running out
Like sand passing through the hourglass
I wait for the day
I muster up the courage
To turn on the gas stove
Sticking my head in
Sylvia Plath style
So I can take my last breath
Ending my melancholic existence forever
For I couldn't escape the curse
Of my literary collegues
That preceded me
Whose lives were filled
With despair and doom
Who spent their life tormented
By the demons inside their soul
Because I, like them
Couldn't stop feeling the torture
Of my past
When I laid down my pen
And closed my eyes
For I am just another suffering poet
In my grave
Decaying away
After a life wasted
Copyright © Courtney Dyer | Year Posted 2007
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