Madness: a form of love (free edition) by Max J. Lewy - HTML preview

Write To Survive

A poet has the luxury to sit back and be himself.

A poet cares little whether he makes it to the shop shelf.

A poet is wise beyond compare.

A poet sees something fair everywhere.

I am not wise, I see nothing fair;

But if I don't prove I'm alright 'up there',

I'll be treated like shit.

I'll lose what mind I still have, what wit.

In my words, I set no stall.

How could I heed the Muses' Call?

Ever since that little medication board,

I resent beauty as something I cannot afford.

I am something more raw, more pure.

I am something more core, more poor.

Adrenaline pumping through my veins,

Brings the most acute quatrains.

Do I write from the heart?

So what if my rhymes only fart?

I don't write some vain pleasure to derive...

I merely write to survive!