I want to write poetry
But I can't; for poetry is for the wrecked
the ravaged and the ruined
This genial day is one to let sorrows pass
Not one to be writing poetry.
As day turns to night
Begins the vulnerability of human might-
Caving in, as darkness engulfs light
Claustrophobia looms over
Not to closure, but to company;
They say safety comes in numbers
But I beg to differ
What good is company?
One would rather be disengaged from politics
And with that I shall pursue Isolationism
I want to write poetry
But I finally can; for poetry is for the wrecked
the ravaged and the ruined
Nightfall is one to let sorrows pass
Definitely one to write poetry.
(P.S I feel like this all the time wonder if any of you feel the same)