Cliché

Poetry is
Raw
Red
Lacerated skin,
A broken heart
Shattered
Coldly
By a trusted lover,
An endless
Midnight
Traps you
And suffocates you
In lonely
Darkness,
The murder of
A brethren
And he leaves his
Bloody
Crimson
Handprint
On your door.
Poetry is not
Happiness.
Poetry is
Represented by
Despair.