What if I write a poem,
Scribbles myriads of words,
Creating sentences of chaos and pain
Does it make me a poet?
What if I write a poem,
Unravel one side story
Of how we fall down six deep,
not wanting to get up
Does it make me a poet?
What if I write a poem,
Creating rhymes of me wanting to sleep
Never waking up again
Does it make me a poet?
What If I write a poem,
Note down every heart breaks,
Letters that smells like suicide
Does it make me a poet?
What if I write a poem,
Of how lonely I became
Just want to keep the silence
Does it make me a poet?
Well, I don't know.
I'm no poet in the first place,
I'm just here, deep and shallow,
Or maybe everyone is a poet,
When everything is blue,
and one isn't alive, no more.
— Shey D.