Killer of my Verse

By MariFelices

I am a Poet….
With a broken heart,
Who relinquished my muse.
Who’s smiling at me when I’m alone and lonely.
Begging me to come back and to continue what’s I’ve been started.

I am a poet
With a frustrated heart,
Who did ignore my first love
Who’s striking at the wall of silence I created.
I chooses to click my camera, strum my guitar and cook pies than to write what’s on my heart and mind.

I am a poet,
with my heart in pieces,
Who’s indisposed me from writing.
Yes, I fed up with my own verse.
And it was disheartened me writing poems because it seems I was writing the same topic,
The same love sad poem again and again.

I am a poet,
With a wounded heart,
Who’s not willing to put myself into distress,
By opening my heart and soul to anyone.
Reading my poetry is like I’m allowing them to see my bruises that I’m trying to obscure.

I am a poet,
With a bleeding heart,
Who vacated her own quill
Yes, I renounced my own quill,
I let it flown away from me because it was the window of my heart and soul.

I am a Poet,
With a crippled heart,
And I will write no more
I dumped my own quill.
I murdered my own muse,
I killed my inspiration
And make it a bloody quill.

I am a Poet…
But alas! I’m no longer one.
I killed my own rhymes who’s irritated me for whispering into my mind repeatedly.
Yes, I’m a killer of my own verse.
And I will write no more.


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