Poetry

In a world filled with darkness,
Shouding and everlasting,
Poetry conquers,
Painting pictures of life,
And writing stories of death
With words sharp like knives
And whispers of those once left.

Am I any good
At fitting such shoes
Of talented poets before me?
We both know I will lose.
But try and try again I shall
For poetry, it frees me,
And onto you, a gift I bestow,
For it's you I wish to please.

Come, come, come,
Through the door to my soul,
Where everyone becomes one,
For we are all the same
In one way or another
Through pain
You may suffer
Or you may gain
And reclaim life's luster.