by Kelene Blake
Poetry is a prison
For emotions the heart can no longer contain.
Fear, pain, love… dangerous hope
Trapped on paper, where it is safe,
Where it will not bother anybody.
But it does. It bothers everybody.
The emotions imprisoned behind the words
Contained on the paper
They will not be confined.
Instead, they call out to everyone
Within earshot, within view,
And leave their stain on hearts and minds.
Emotions like silvered blood, seep through the paper
From behind the words
And the poetry, if it is real,
Becomes a mirror where everyone sees
The emotions their hearts can no longer contain.