The Curse Of Poetry

It's growing in my heart.
The roots wrap around like veins.
Pumping blood to the ever growing seed.
Inch by inch it grows.
I can feel it taking hold.
Beat after beat.
Hear that curse.
It calls you now.
It takes hold and begins to flower.
The sweet auroma envelopes my soul.
Can you smell that sweet aura?
It's a curse.
The curse of poetry.
It was once a seed,
Those days are long gone.
Now I am just futile soil.
Soil ground for a curse,
The sweet curse of words.
Ink soaks in my veins.
Paper my flesh
My curse fitting.
In the end the seed out grew me.
Chained to roots,
I am never free.
Tree oh trees grow in me.
Take control and further curse me.