Foolish
You are foolish with your art
It is killing you slowly day by day
You do not even have time
To wash your face or clean
Your ears, the earwax
Makes you deaf and you
No longer hears your rhythm
You write poems, you keep on
Writing poems. And what do
You get in return? Nothing.
You are helplessly poetic
Best friend of Sisyphus.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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