Do not eliminate the poeticness from the excessively adorned lines

Those prosaic words won’t be able to recite with eloquent cadence

Brittle words across the slippery surfaces slant rather awkwardly

Mayhem ensues after they crumble timidly and lay there in a heap

Let poetry breathe with freedom without the embellished uselessness

It is not a simplistic imitation of the reality; of whose frankness is questionable

Rather, the layers and labyrinthine imagery enhance the beauty of unknown

If the pen is not well-versed with the intricacies of life, the ink is wasted

It is a journey into nothingness and back to fill the blank spaces


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