Poetry
It took me too long
So long
and is it too late?
It took me so long to treat poetry as honesty
I was brought up that way
Badly.
But, I'm not sticking up fingers here...
It was'nt her fault
Or his
combination probably.
I'm disgusted at me
I'm lost at my chances
I have so little time for rhyme
I have a twisted view of poetry
I have my view about life
apparently it's twisted
If I was honest,
and I'll try:
It's twisted
And personal
And lost
And the word troubles me
So much lies
Or possible lies
.
Poetry worries me in that way
That temptation
To lie
Or to make it sound better.
And eventually,
Lie
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem