Nothing Poetic
I look deep into my mind, into my dying soul, and I find nothing poetic. Isn't that pathetic? I can't even find beauty in my poems. I search for something that is not there, for comfort in my words. Haven't you heard? How can you read these poems when they hold no beauty. I look in the mirror of cold silver glass. It burns my eyes. It's no surprise. I shouldn't have looked in the first place. No beauty in my ugly form nor in my melting mind. No wonder in my soul or this heart you stole. Nor in my empty eyes that stare into nothingness. You see these empty words; these babbled mindless words, and what is there to see but the uglyness in me. In my heart or in my words there is nothing poetic. Written January 24th, 2002 © on Jan 24 2002 08:52 AM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"I look deep into my mind,..."