Death of a poem

Blood-spill on paper
droplets of words
seeping out emotions
flooding to an outburst

Hard, honest, heart wrenching
holding nothing back
brutal, cruel and hurting
cutting none a slack

The helplessness and hopelessness
the senselessness the tragedy
the wicked twisting dance of fate
set to a painful melody

The aria the crescendo
in a mismatched tempo
of uncompleted verses
hanging out in limbo

Of demons and dragons
and unsung heroes
of victims and villains
and a sum of zeroes

Of hearts on sleeves
and egg on face
of ideals crashing
and losing the race

Of glorifying loss
and alters of shame
of unconditional love
and its claim to fame

Of catharsis
of rejuvenation
of finding hope and roads to salvation

Of walking the path even
or just getting there
but never a line about
a ‘life without care’

Never of smugness
or of debauchery
for once you’re happy
happiness kills poetry:)