But now the more I laugh the more I feel weird
funny feeling
no longer funny
Poetry has failed
It too becomes like a gun
And I,
like an angry young man,
shooting away bullets
not caring if my gun is empty
and pretending everything will be okay
Is poetry a weapon of mine ?
Can a lover such as I
also am a killer ?
Guns don't kill people, they said,
It's the bullets that do so
Words too are so
just a group of empty shells
Once shot and missed
They become garbage
What is this devilish thought ?
A poem should heal people
and a poet a healer
But like I said
this funny feeling
no longer funny
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