When Poetry Dies
When Poetry Dies
I broke down and cried,
The day my pen stopped and died.
I broke down in ever present sadness,
The day my writing was trapped in madness.
I broke down in lost confusion,
The day my ideas were just an illusion.
I broke down in tormented pain,
The day my words were washed away by rain.
I broke down in flowing tears,
The day my thoughts were consumed by fears.
I broke down in a confused insanity,
The day my mind escaped its sanity.
I broke down and wanted to be dead,
The day my poetic soul was empty in my head.
I broke down, screamed and cried,
The day my poetry left me and died.