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the sacred art

 
my anxiety peaked and i couldn't talk
I felt like a coil was winding ever tighter ready to pop
into the dark I fell
I don't remember what happened next
my mind to this day is foggy

I somehow ended up here deep under the ground
where I began to write
just a few words here and there to start
I wasn't practiced at the art of poetry
I didn't know the language I just babbled
but I expressed my pain the best way I knew how

the wards of this place watched on quietly as I evolved
it seems I was invited here by the unknown
the people took me in and made me feel at home

I realized this was a true gift, an art form
my pain fueled it and my poems were written with my blood
my hurt expressed in crimson
I was utterly driven to write
I had no choice my suffering too great

a certified hermit without social graces
I found this was a place I could safely socialize
soon I knew the poet language
using it as an art form of expression
its taught me a lot about who I am as a person
who the universe is and my place in it

I love the people here they understand this special language
it is a true artistic gift
this place sacred



Written by crimsin (Unveiling)
Published
Author's Note
for the why comp.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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