An Artist of Words

Once upon a time, there was an artist of words

Her twisted lyric captured my young mind, undeterred


Never before had such art caused crystalline tears to fall

Eagerly I gripped my own pen, writing on the walls


I savored the words, succulent and sweet

I found that this elegance was my only retreat


My mind ached, insides had rotten

But with this, my troubles were soon forgotten


I scrawled on the page day by day

Words of self-hatred, a pitiful display


Although the subject was sour, the outcome was sweet

They commended my work, a spoiled treat


And with moving words, they teared as much

No, I couldn’t be just like my mentor, but I wouldn’t want as such


And after all this time, self-hatred had blurred,

Because once upon a time, I am an artist of words

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741