Hello dear poetry, I seek refuge in thee again.
I’ll be with you alone even if my words are vain.
I don’t know where I’m going and I’d rather not.
By thy love alone I’m glad I never forgot.

Is it a mere painful eulogy I write? I ask.
It doesn’t matter; I complete my task.
Do I really care whether I’d ever be read?
It doesn’t matter as I’ll be with you when I’m dead.

Endless catharsis, perhaps, is all I ever compose?
Am I being a rebellious teen when authority I oppose?
It doesn’t matter whether I’ll ever publish.
It doesn’t matter if they read my epithet when I perish.

All I want is to be with thee forever more.
And if you want, more rhetoric I’ll pour.
I’ll live here, stranded on this island till I go numb.
I’ll compose away here till thy kingdom come.
A Chief Editor of


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