I breathe out beauty only to decay, A guiding light that burns itself away. And though my words may set another free, They come from prison deep inside me. I never meant for sorrow to be art, Each verse landing with the force of a dart. Symphonies of wrongs woven into words, Tales of betrayals that startle even the birds. Oh, what is the world to a cursed Muse? A mere stage to paint the most tragic views? Stories that end with cathartic ends, Poison that corrupts even the closest of friends. Tales of true love that always fall short, Hopes and aspirations Fate seems to thwart. Oh how does the world see the cursed Muse? A poet wired to burn right through their fuse? A soul whose passion spills in cruel rhymes, Even when the truth still bleeds between the lines. What will it take to fix a cursed Muse? Maybe it’ll be the power to choose. The power to twist this dismal fate, And turn it into something to celebrate. But the gods frown upon souls once bright, Condemning them to suffer in endless night. There is no saving this cursed Muse, Doomed to wander in empty shoes. And so the tale ends where it once began, A whisper lost to time, unheard by man. The cursed Muse fades with no one to accuse, For some are born to create, and some are born to lose. ------------------------ At last I finally write something half decent. Sorry if the rhymes are a little bit forced I was struggling :P
poem ~ me image ~ google
