Poetry or Medicine
Is this poetry or medicine...the border blurs
A whispered line can calm what fear obscures
A verse becomes a tincture for the mind
Restoring quiet places stress unbinds
Each metaphor a balm for hidden ache
Each rhythm steadying what strain might break
Ink turns to breath where heavy thoughts reside
A gentle pulse that lifts the weighted tide
So call it art or healing…both are true
The poem repairs what life has torn in you
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