A hundred bad days make a hundred good tales A hundred good poems of my winnings and fails In life you may win or else you may learn So I’m carrying proud each scar and each burn. Let my feelings be chanelled into my craft To talk of the people I’ve lost and I’ve loved Each hurt sets a rhythm, each failure’s a song That somehow will guide me to where I belong. My feelings, grow stronger – be fierce and bold! To help me uncover emotions untold! I don’t fear the heartbreak or loneliness scar For each of them lights up my night with a star. My poems, grow deeper – be true and bare! Let me not shy away from the people’s harsh glare I don’t fear their judgement or showing my soul For both light and darkness belong to the whole. Without those strong feelings, what would I do? All of my poems would sound hollow and cruel. Where’d be the flicker, the spark that ignites? Where’d be the thrill when inspiration strikes? Where’d be the rhythm, the pulse and the beat? My poem’s alive, apart from the sheet I will channel all feelings into my craft To remember the people I’ve lost and I’ve loved.
