Poetry is
a counterfeit,
a broken promise,
a letdown,
a form of disillusionment
that always
shorts
the reader’s hopes
by busting up
the true
into fragments
of betrayal
openly forcing
the reader
to make sense.
It is constant
only
in overpromising
and underdelivering.
Such is
the Trickster’s script
and wholly necessary
double cross.
So…
sue me.
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Happy Sunday! Thanks for sharing your creative process.
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roll the dice …
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What a great poem! Thanks for sharing your process. I love your ending! 😂
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Sorry for taking so long to approve and respond, dear reader. I am guilty of forcing my poems to tie up neatly. Eh, so what, right. Sue me. 😉