[ Poetry is dead to me. ]

Poetry is dead to me.
It died alongside my heart.
No more beats of prosody.
No more blood leaked from my pen and parts.
No more thoughts of love--they're dead.
No more thoughts of gloom.
No more hidden suicides--they're out, looming...ready for the kill...
No more happy daggered bliss
No more please, kiss me like this....
No more feelings, no more pain...
No more no more friends again...
No more poetry...no more poets...
None at all...
When a bond is begun over poetry...a bond is begun to fall..
To send a fatal blow to me, a cheater with a sensual hand and mind
Cheating on me with his poetry
Cheating on me in his mind
No wonder he doesn't care
No wonder I don't matter
No more poetry, please
It's killing me
Poetry kills me
Poetry
This isn't even me...