Poetry, the price of

It comes easily now, the poetry.
It comes in the night, with little thought,
or preparation.

But the cost, it was terrible,
not certain it is worth the price,

she paid.

Years of pain, heartache and shame,
he pours into, the poetry.

Cancer, the car wreck, the strained relationships.

He can't stop it now, it flows too easily.
These flow forth, from his soul.

Still, he wishes the poetry had never come,
at such a cost.

This option he has not now,
so the shame, anger, and guilt,
he leaves behind on the page,
with poetry.