A Poem is a Bomb

A poem is a bomb

Masquerading as pretty flowers

Silent in the approach

Until you feel it explode

It blooms, it booms

Smack dab in your face

Blistering hot, scorching

A thousand suns ignite

In the tomb of your solar plexus

And you’re trying to flex

Away all that pain

But those are your tears

Dancing down your face

Like rain at a funeral

It’s been building up for years

Now you’re gushing

A wet puddle forms around your chin

And nothing will make it disappear

Not even the bath towel

Wrapped around your waist

And we’re all wasting time

On a clock that never beats

A dead circle full of dreams

A dream full of regrets

But maybe this poem

Will get you through the day

Maybe it’ll save your life