I've always wondered what made some
women poets stick their head in
their ovens-
Or dress in fur and gems and
asphyxiate them selves to death-
Women who tried to die before,
just wouldn't give up until they
got it right-
It isn't as if they didn't write about
it for all to see-
Lord knows they sure
practiced enough.
Poor souls.
Like me, I think
that quote 'what doesn't
kill you makes you stronger'
drove them to do it.
Who really believes
that hogwash?
If it were true,
I'd have a costume of
red, white and blue satin and
could block bullets
with iron cuff bracelets.
Oh, and don't forget about
that invisible airplane.
Life is hell, I agree with
you on that.
But, the words they
left behind, are
sheer heaven
to me.
That which does not kill me, wounds deeply. It comes down to how much punishment can I take. How much invincibility do I fake? I enjoyed your poem, deep, thought inspiring and different.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is very sweet all around. Joyous the form of dead words!