Poetry Is A Confessional Box

Poetry is a confessional box you never leave you can only lie to yourself for so long before you demand truthful answers and wish to hear more than an indistinct voice in the wilderness. It's an inner calling to gather insights beyond these four walls and once it's-been-opened a wellspring rushes forth, a confession without end with or without forgiveness, asks for a hearing not to be proud but just to be welcomed as rain could, a rainbow, passing through its many different honest phases. To distil once more on a window pane or dislodge a tear long since frozen in other poems' disgruntled pages. Sat with hands and stomach knotted, praying for a thousand pointless different answers.