Photo by Victoria Linnen on Unsplash
I don’t write poetry anymore
Because once the ink dries
The words I scribble stare back at me
With frowned dots
And an ironic paper smile
Just to remind me again
That all I’ve said has been consecrated before
On a temple’s door or on a kid’s bedroom wall
Or by another anonymous poet
Who secretly battled with vulgar mediocrity
Knowing full well he would never reach
The precipitous creative summit
About the Creator
Diana C.
Here to pen, polish and provoke thoughts.
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