Killing the poetess in me..


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Poetry has been the sun that kept rising within me; in the morning it becomes so fresh and addictive, yet in the night-under the moonlight-it becomes the light to my dark days..
Occasionally, winds cover up all my skies and the world of poetry lets its winds pour me with a rain of trite words-it breaks me like a fragile glass..this is when writers block takes place.
Once upon a time I was so addicted, today I'm standing like a crying coward unable to express what I feel (or don't feel) with poetry.
Metaphors have lost their originality, rhyme has lost its sense of music and the beautiful rhythm it created in the poems. And similes, oh I miss looking for creativity and impressive imagery..
The last poem I wrote, which was Perpetuation, failed me (Maybe I'm exaggerating) and I still can't call it a poem..here if you wish to judge Perpetuation.

I'm not sure whether I can be the poetry addict of before..this just keeps getting worse..

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