Poetry doesn't pay the bills and if it did Perhaps it would cease to be poetry
For me
It is struggle and scrape, it is sorrow and joy It is the temper of a young girl and her boy
Feral beauty
Poetry is that creature, trapped in a dark corner, Maimed and musical, always edging for escape
Always free | JM
Breathing doesn't pay bills either, but is necessary. Sounds like poetry is like that
For you.