Doesn’t Make Sense Now.

Your heart will beat
Your blood vessels will throb
While writing each new line of poetry
Extending moments of long forgotten memory.

Your body may tremble
Your breathing may stop
While your eyes bleed out colourless blood
While your heart sheds red tears through uneven cracks.

Your reactions are queer
It’s not just poetry
It’s moments you’ve prevailed
Challenges you’ve faced
Circumstances you’ve been forced to overcome
This is your interpretation of poetry
It’s not supposed to make sense right now
It’s not supposed to make sense at all.



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