Death by Poetry

Death By Poetry

Consumed by eternal flames
Burned to a crisp from within
Killed by emotions without names
To express them I can’t begin.

Mind to paper, nothing between,
I’m just a conduit, slave to a harsh queen
Driven hard, no place to run,
I cannot stop, I’ve barely begun
A million words burn in my head
If I can’t release them, I’m worse than dead
I’m scorched to cinders by the thoughts within,
My soul is screaming beneath my skin
So many thoughts, no place to go,
I’m just a vessel, caught in their flow
They dance through my mind, shrieking with glee
My pen is a window to the turmoil in me
If creeping oblivion should snuff out this life
It’ll not be before they’ve exacted some tithe
I seek a release from the violence inside
But from this crescendo I can’t seem to hide
To put words to paper is a meager respite,
It’s better to scream them aloud to the night
There’s no way on earth to fight imagination
Poetry, it seems, is a lethal occupation
But if it kills me in the end,
It’ll not be before these words I've penned