when it’s all too much to be expressed in simple sentences

when you’re done with people and their pretenses

when between proclaiming and hiding love you are torn

when you doubt whispered promises- a hundred times sworn

when the rose is not enough for lovers forlorn

when heartbreak grows larger than the prick of a thorn

when in sequestered meadows you aimlessly soujorn

when in chattering crowds you imagine a flying unicorn

when you are brimming with hope, now reborn

when you are grinning for no reason at morn

when tears are not enough for the grieving to mourn-

that, my friend, is when poetry is born