The Sylvia Plyth Effect

Oh, tender heart, too full to bear, With words like fire and frail despair, A mind too sharp, a soul too raw, Seeking solace in the flawed. Through brittle days and endless night, You poured your pain in streams of light, Each verse a glint, a gentle sigh, Too heavy for a world so dry. I see your spark, your blazing flame, Bound by love and bound by shame. Like autumn leaves to embers cast, A fragile beauty built to last. Oh, poet lost in shadows deep, Who carved her life in words to keep, The silence, still, beneath your breath, The longing pain—the pull of death.