Blood spills on barren pages, Love dances with poetic rages. Each word a death, each line a life, Submitting poems for the slaughter.
With sweaty hands and hopeful sighs, We send our comedies to die in distant skies. Through self-doubt and lethargy, our words take the wish's leap, others' hearts will keep.
For every rejection, a scar added to soul, For every acceptance, a scar added to the universe. We write, along bridges burned, sending off poems to be judged so our very existence can endure.
Kendra Jean, you should submit here, because the world needs your solidarity. You are a damn good poet and I am honored to know it.