Poetry like a band-aid

in #peoplelast year

I don't know if the poem is like a band-aid, or like the wound itself, or the kid who cuts the weak wound trying to shell. But what comes at certain times is the desire to write that you can't help yourself.


It's an internal dump that you don't even worry about whether you're okay or not. A combination of words that the language does not reach to say, sentences to form, sentences formed. Structures without rules.

Emotions are universal, but this time I tried to write in English, because poetry translation is a field in itself, it is not enough to speak and speak a second language, so I wrote it again instead of translating it, I don't know how it happened, because I don't like it because it's poetry. These writings, words, discourses called poetry are self-directed and I cannot intervene. He said to write poetry that must have been injured.


If you are a guest you don't see, you don't know, you don't realize, maybe this scar doesn't prevent people from writing.

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