He Makes Me Hate Poetry Poem by Za7ra Sulaiman

twisted faith
twisted verses

The words once flowed like a gentle stream,
Painting pictures, igniting my soul's gleam.
But now they taunt, a jagged, broken rhyme,
Cutting deep, a discordant, painful chime.

'He makes me hate poetry, ' I bitterly declare,
The verses I once loved now fill me with despair.
The fault, I know, lies not in the art itself,
But in the shadows that haunt me, my inner self.

'Actually, I hate myself, ' the truth finally breaks free,
Exposing the root of this poetic tragedy.
Self-loathing consumes, tainting every line I write,
Extinguishing the spark that once burned so bright.

Yet within this darkness, a glimmer of hope remains -
The power to reclaim the poetry that once ran through my veins.
To silence the voices that seek to undermine,
And rediscover the beauty in each word, each rhyme.

For the fault lies not in the art, nor in the world around,
But in the battle raging within, where self-doubt has found its ground.
So I'll fight, I'll persist, until once again I see
The magic of poetry, a reflection of all that I can be.