What if I have no more poetry left in me.
All my grief drained in these metaphors,
what if I have written all my poems
and all I have left is bare bones.
I’ve been here before
and I’ve conquered
but what if I
don’t have it in me anymore.
No—
I’ve been here before
and I’ve conquered.
My words are in a state of war
but I have sworn to sew
all my words into a throne
to testify to my hustle.
My struggle
will not be meaningless.
I am my own definition of success
because poetry is not how many eyes
peruse your verses but how many hearts you touch

More poetry via Instagram @anjaanography