Misery

My poems are not beautiful.

They are not fleeting sighs or made from veins of love and organs of joyous memories.

They are unvoiced emotions, lost thoughts, lonely tears and broken hearts.

The pain I've felt has manifested something alive,
Something that feeds on my pain and in return provides me with words and inspiration.

This creature is with me always
Yet I never want it to leave as over the years it has slowly absorbed the very essence of me.

Without it I would be incomplete
A puzzle missing a piece.

Without it I would never have been a writer and so for that I am grateful for my friend Misery.