Paper

Paper

It seems the poet's curse,

To tell their soul in ryhme and verse,

At times paper seems their only friend,

And yet their enemy in the end.

Like a mocking parrot it repeats,

The poet's vain dispairs and defeats.

Yet at times the poet is by paper blessed,

This truth i have oft confessed,

For if one writes of joy and love,

The paper tranforms into a dove.

Good tideings borne on its gentle wings,

Jubilee in the soft song it sings.

Is paper a friend or foe?

The answer of this question I do not know,

Paper is what a poet makes it,

What they choose can help the heart or break it.

Reviews

[MadeMan99]

i guess that's reality is... good job :)

[Samantha]

Hey,this is kinda sorta amazing. I love it, and you :)