My eyes are puffy,
Maybe this is what hell feels like.
I feel broken,
Like I'm losing parts of myself.
But then,
Did I have those parts to begin with?
A curse this is,
Creativity is a curse.
But then,
What else can spell "help me",
Except words of beautiful poetry?
I'm fading into the dusk,
My name forgotten,
Like my very first steps.
This is the price I have to pay,
To declare myself a creative,
One who paints with words.
Don't forget my name,
It's all I have left.
Piece and pieces of my mind,
Scattered far and wide,
My salvation becomes my damnation.
This is just poetry,
Most of my poems usually are.
So, don't take this to heart,
It's me being creative,
Bringing to life the beauty of pain.
Life is one weird puzzle,
Trying to piece it together is giving me a headache.
But it doesn't matter,
We flow with whatever we see,
And in the end,
We win.
We always win!
Victor Mairo/Word God/Poetic Devil