Poetic Scriptophobia

It’s not a certified phobia
But poetry brings jitters.
Poetry is in the essence of listening
To your conscience
Those voices that you bury deep down
On the weight of those holidays shopping
The unnecessary shopping
Those untimely cravings
Under the smoke of your cigarette
And until your last peg.

 

You just don’t want to listen
To your heart telling you
That what your doing
Spending your life with
Is what you rather not do.
Selling its plan to you
Like the best salesman ever
And other such things you know
But don’t want to know.

 

Poetry holds the power
To rip off your sugarcoat
And make you see things as they are
So that’s more agony than pleasure
Hence you run away from it
Even though it’s the best master
Asking you to do difficult things
To turn you into gold
But who has seen the future?
So you run from it.

 

You run as much as possible
From those voices within
Until they catch you and pin you down
Like the cat pins a mouse
Make you listen like you ought to.
Just like they did to me today
Then filled words in my mind
And made me write
Because this is not me
This is poetry.

 

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