Why do teens feel the spark of creation,
So often in our grim-faced nation?
Ten-thousand poems posted to date,
Often filled with sadness or hate.
Do they feel they are braking the mold,
That each poem has thoughts untold,
When in reality such tears are so old,
That hearts they used to soften remain hard, and cold?
They post each poem, their blood and sweat,
And in searching for comments they find regret.
Who have their words changed when met?
None, all the faces remain hard and set.
And still they try, at night they write,
With new thoughts they wrestle and fight.
To post again, the very next day,
To watch their words fade slowly away.
Woe to teenage poet,
Many who wish not to know it,
While they are common as a star,
Their light is thrown not a bit as far.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|karina garay (188.8.131.52) -- Wednesday, March 14 2007, 11:39 pm|
i love this poem its really cool and really true you know i write poerty too its my favorite thing to do comment my poem at peotry.com come on its not hard just wanted to say i loved this poem alot
|Frantz Eyssallenne (184.108.40.206) -- Wednesday, August 8 2007, 12:30 am|
wat r u trying 2 say here? that teen poets arent worth as much? that we are all sad an depressed? wat is the meaning behind it?
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