Poetry is not words
Poetry is thoughts that come alive
They dance in the back of your head
They are a labyrinth of sorrow and joy
A gift or a loss
It is either one or another

Poetry is not words
Poetry is a flame that licks across your body
Beautiful to look at but painful to feel
It leaves burns on your body that spell feelings
Its different shades of destruction never cease
But turn a different color

Poetry is not words
Poetry is an illness
It poisons your body and makes it useless
Just wanting to die
But being forced to live
No matter what the sorrow

Poetry is not words
Poetry is the life of a reader
And death of a writer
For true talent is never recognized
Until the body that held it
Is gone