poetry

poetry is like a curse

a trade, a gold necklace

for a good line

a soul for a breakthrough

multiple sleepless nights

and a liter of tears

for a few rhymes.

is it worth it

to live in pain and agony

to constantly drown in the deepest sea

to love in torment but to love with pride

so we could catch a glimpse of the poetic goddess.

a dead flower is more beautiful than it is alive

we mourn and write

while our hands are full of thorn punctures.

t.l.