If dream jobs came true
I would be a poet
But I would be starving still
If poets were as fruitful as farmers
Bellies full and smiles bright
my land would be barren
my fields taken with blight
My soil would be hardened, over tilled
For my rhymes are far between
Stretching far too thin
My land sits waiting for rain
Dry and barren
But I am no weather tamer
The clouds and my words come and go
I find myself starved
Nothing to say nothing to grow
Though I wish to make a living writing poetry
I am thankful it cannot be
Because I would be hungry
So I choose to be fully fed and empty
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It Could Have Been Gentle - poetry
PoesíaPoems about the bits of life that feel unnecessarily sharp. ~ Nails in palms and rock in throat and eyes latched in the ground, I open up in hopes of speech and find a choke of sound, Frantic thought of desperation fly beneath my hair, I don'...
