It's funny how poets create thier pieces when in misery,
It's funny how many readers relate when through writers eyes they see.
So if there was no hurt or pain,
Would any real poets actually remain?
If this is true, then poets need to be broken,
And all the harsh words they hear, really need to be spoken.
It's funny how when I'm sad, paper is my closest friend,
It's funny how when I'm happy writing drives me round the bend.
But I class my poems as an artistic passion,
Although I know writing them is kinda out of fashion.
They always help me grieve and let me have my say,
They never return later and use the words to make me pay.
It's funny how when I write I feel so very free,
It's funny how when I don't, I lose a part of me.
I guess life is funny that way,
For all there is a price to pay,
So is there a choice between poetry and happiness?
I think not, it's just that we are all cursed I guess. |