The chill pill

I try to fill a nil with art.
To write instead from brimming heart
Is still the skill I need to drill.

Rejecting Life for what it is,
Reacting to all ease, unease,
Is still the thrill I need to kill.

I have, instead, a scream so shrill
That sharpening my poet’s quill
Is still the pill I need to chill.

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