Educated Stress

Death of a Poet

To be a poet, you must have a strong imagination.

You paint a picture using words.

You frame the picture with paper,

But no matter where you hang the picture, its contents always seem to follow you.

The picture becomes a nightmare.

Your pictures constantly surround you.

Every word is burned into my brain.

A constant reminder of who I really am.

I claim to be careless of my past.
My poems say otherwise.

I claim to be happy.
My poems say otherwise.

I claim to be proud of my work.
My poems say otherwise.

I've lowered myself to a depth in my mind that I can't escape.

I've learned more about myself than I ever wanted to know.

I know I can't escape, so I keep writing anyways.

I always thought I was writing to relax myself.

Now I know, I'm just trying to hit rock bottom,

But how can I be sure that the bottom exists?

I've never even seen the top.