Wraped in the solitude of night,
I can feel poetry flowing through my veins.
Yearning,
pleading,
no… screaming to be let free,
unbound,
to live again.
Yet held deep within my own darkness,
with only the moon to guide my ink in to the unknown depths of paper,
I lack the works to describe this feeling,
this state of mind,
this short lived view of life.
In all simplicity,
it is
simply poetic.
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