Painting by Christian Schloe

I write poetry because I

Feel something inside me that

Tries to break trough.

When I don’t write I

Feel like it’s

Breaking my ribcage,

Screaming and urging to get out.

I don’t know if it’s schizophrenia or

A demon or something like that.

I write poetry because I’m that guy

Who sees the sadness

Between your lips,

Which are struggling to

Smile.

I want to empathize with

That sadness of yours.

I write poetry because

There are fireworks in my

Right hand and when I

Take a pen between my fingers,

Those fireworks

Explode on paper.

That’s why my journal looks like

A new years’s sky.

I write poetry because

I feel everyone of you struggling

To smile in this

Garbage

Called city.

I’m that guy who sits

In the back row

And admires the chaos.

I write poetry for people to know the beauty

Of life.

Life’s not beautiful as a whole,

But if you take all the little

Pieces, like your first bike,

Your first kiss or that first time you

Gave a chocolate to a little girl,

You find beauty.

And that’s why I’m here for.

To underline the fact that

I’m that guy who collects antique stuff

Like roses on the first date,

Or kisses at the front door.

That make life beautiful.

You just have to look more

Careful

Or buy a new pair of glasses.

—

Submitted to ArtParasites by Ionut Cristache

Read our exclusive Artletter

Painting by Catrin Walz Stein

Subscribe to receive the most awe-inspiring stories from ArtParasites, only available by ArtLetter.

Be the first to write a comment.