Is poetry dead?

I have always felt so deeply when I wrote. It's the only time where I can pin point an emotion and freely express it. I'll let my mind wonder onto the pages so desperately as if I was screaming but to burdened to speak them out loud. Yet I wonder if poetry is dead or if we as individuals don't see the Beauty in our flaws.

If this peaks your interests maybe share your own poetry or wrestle with my question.