Art is war,
Something I fought for
Things I couldn't save I couldn't love
I wrote them into darkness to be engulfed
Don't challenge a poet-
We have collected words from gardens of disdain
You'll either become a muse or a grief stricken taleKings maybe superior but I journeyed with no maps, still created armours of ink and paths of verses I have paved
The pain in my lungs, the air I can't breath in
A poison too intoxicating, the venom in my veins
Dreamt of heavenly fairies got humans instead
God said love your enemy, so I loved myselfSpare personalities decked up on my bed
Which to wear, the question lingers again
Followed the moonlight ended in a harem
Struck by beauty, too sinful to getArt is war, they say
I confront my enemy,
Melodies are long lost and maybe so am I
I like it this way, where I don't have to abideIgnore my nuisance it's just a phase
The moon takes thirty days but I'm left with blades
I carve myself into marble
Talk of my pride and scandals
I hope they remember-
Me,
Maybe as history maybe as it's creator
YOU ARE READING
Unsaid words
Poetry"Is happiness really a myth". A collection of the most cherished pieces of my soul: my poems. The things I wrote when I loved, when I hated, when I raged, when I dared and when from reality, I escaped. My poems are a way for me to get away from the...