My Poetry, My Blood

All the time, you talk about my poetry,

Claim it's always about you,

Especially the darkest depths of it

You acknowledge that,

Yet refuse to change

So, what's the point, anyway?

You speak about my poetry,

The words that run so deep,

Gushing like scarlet blood

Once finally exposed

You think it's all about you

Well, maybe you're right

Ding, ding, ding!

We have a winner!

The prize: your daughter's heart,

Resting in shambles