Art
Poetry is a lost art,
Which stems from the pangs,
Of a tormented heart,
The pain of loss,
Emotion is the true cost,
But without it,
I'd truly be lost,
In the moments,
My heart turns dark,
Thankfully there is always a lone spark,
Which saves me,
From losing my heart,
My soul,
The words I write,
Are out of my control,
I could not tell you,
How I relinquish control,
How, for a moment,
I am letting go,
Of what it means to be me,
Poetry has set me free.
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