What is poetic?

A cry reflects an immunity to life, an antidote for death trapped in time, beneath the valley resplendent with snow. Prisms of thought captured on the steam of warm breath. Grief drives many to leave a rose, to bring an inaudible hello. Icy fingers grip a white rose, hail falls from the eyes of the disregarded. The curtain of time now torn, whispers of regret bleed through, A ghost breathes its invisible apology to hearts now guarded. Colors of the small town’s world stirs to a darker hue. All are affected by this ghost’s choice, a life now willfully raptured, you, the ghost peeking from the past to tell it’s story in the brusing storm Your mistaken solution, with suicide held on a pedestal now captured. There’s no going back, no consoling the hurting from wounds you form Families stabbed by grief, a town left in confusion and guilt, This is the flawed shelter, the rope still hanging in the rafter, a road of choices, you never relinquished apathy, this is what you’ve built. A room buzzing with silence and dread, a gaping absence of usual laughter Now your frozen body begins to reek, your soul left to it’s destination Your definition of poetic redefined by what you see through the curtain Many ghosts live by this definition of poetic all throughout the nation Think on the impulse, imagine it’s path beyond you. Now are you so certain?