The black hole

_{Mark Webster art}

the pain that i try so hard to hide
escapes through the little ball of my pen.
in my poetry i’m as naked as i’ve never been.

here i cannot lie, i open my heart.
i try to run but i cannot hide:
the words always find their way out of me.

i’m tired of this gap in my heart:
a black hole that eats my blessings
and leaves me stuck with my disasters.