Poetry’s Dead( version 1)

I write and write
to try and give these words  
life and not tragedy  
The pain in my life has me apathetic as fuck no apology  
I cured my own heartbreak no medic or ER needed  
No soup or cough medicine  
 
           Either  
 
I write or let the darkness  
Tell me  
        I still need her  
The four letter sin  
Despite, what I divulged  
      in  
my red notebook  
I am not a lesbian  
 
This poetry’s dead without my gold pen  
The secrets it’s withholding  
Is cutting me thin  
And I don’t like lacerations  
They bring in infectious emotions  
That multiply like roaches  
And I tried to learn the language in different ways  
I approached it  
No life coaches  
A fools gold Pen leaking  
Yesterday nights endings    
Poetry’s dead if    
    I  
Can’t rewrite the beginnings