Death of Poetry

I wrote this over 6 years ago, and it’s been saved as a draft… I thought I would share it, since it still means something to me. And I share, so that poetry lives on, at least here. 

There’s poetry in my heart,
but I’m scared to let you see it,
to hear it;
to be given the chance to;
the power to,
reject me.
So I hide it, stifle it, until it shrinks and fades away in hopes to be awaken another day.

Again, I am afraid, but not for me, but for the death of poetry…

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