As a poet much-maligned,
Having failed at my art
To enthral the gathering
From the poetic parley, I depart
Some remnants from my abode
You shall find
An anthology of this berserk rhymester
One of its kind
Unearth you will, another thing of mine,
A broken, empty goblet of wine
I yearned to walk on glowing embers,
On a bed of thorns lie,
Moreover, to the heart’s content,
My destiny decry
Oblivious of many such asks
I walk away from unfulfilled tasks.
Though on my last leg
The final journey is held-up
Wonder if my broken heart
Still has some desires pent up
Oh my heart, let me go
Allow me to take a bow.
If your art went bad… you wouldn’t be writing such heartfelt poetry! As writers we doubt ourselves a lot!
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Thank you for going through my recent posts and giving your comments. You are right, writers are always in doubt. They constantly seek validation for their work and when there is no feedback from the readers, they become sceptical. Anyways, likes and comments on my posts from an exceptionally talented writer like you means a lot to me.
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Aww it was my pleasure!
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