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Poem about Poetry

Quiet Scream

11502602646_7541be5447_oby Taymaz Valley30 Jun 2014

The chaos I feel inside and keep
remains still static like water drops
laid on a marble surface chilled.

The quiet scream buried deep
makes my yellowed teeth clench shut,
mind occupied with a single doubt:
what if it is in vain this life of mine?

Ghostly faces shout, haunt and hurt,
mocking as tears roll down the face,
remorseless and quite content
to make me fear an imminent death.
They laugh and say: “Remain calm,
comfort is the key to life and above all
riches make a man not thoughts,
what good are ideas dreamt up?”

Yet you and I know this thing of ours
matters and mattered long before us.
So I give up all that I own to the world,
and retain that thing most valuable,
that priceless, unsellable piece of soul:
words, words, words, words.