Poetry

I come from a place where we weep on pages 

And not on pillows 

I come from a place where love is not in the air

But it’s in the long green meadows 

I come from a place where the metaphors are severed

And the puns outflows

I come from a place where heartbreaks are engraved into stones

And life is lived with the hurricanes and tornadoes

I come from a place where words are deceptive 

And the hearts are broken, and the feelings just go

So now when they ask me why poetry? 

It’s just a mere lie

Hear this, it’s a lie you all are willing to hear bout

A lie where everything is what you want it to be

So why not poetry!