THE POET: A POEM
by IPGH
The Poet
cannot write a work of art uninspired.
A forced poem
Is like a forced laugh.
Sad, stale, it’s sole purpose to please someone else.
Because a poem, first and foremost, is yours.
Because beneath all the fancy words,
The synonyms and the similes,
The metaphors and the mixed meanings
Beneath all the complexities the world calls a poem,
Lies a tiny masterpiece created in your heart of hearts
Lies a sacred being forged in the depths of your mind
Lives a little you, you in your rawest form:
A poem.