Seems to clarify,
What we’re all about.
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Poems are little stories
Capturing the essenceOf what we have to say,But at the same timeWe find feelings,That bring storiesTo life,Thus giving birthTo written mirth,Alleviating,Troubled heartsAnd sometimes,Giving Life a push,In ReachingFor the stars.
From the depths
ComesThe Poetry,The PainOf self-expression,That so oftenOpens doorsTo regretful,Slow, processions.
The Liberty of color,
A White Rose,A symphony of beauty,Does compose,Bringing purity,To our Souls.
If Poetry
Should ever end,Where would we goTo cry our tears,To share our fears,To stay aliveWhere, could we go?
Come on,
My love,Poetry,Don’t be shyYou know,I’ll be faithful,And you don’t evenHave to ask me why.
Nothing can
The intoxicating effectThe extravagantly,Glorious, feelingOf a poem, grand,With one sole handIt can lift you upTo Heaven’s SpaceSadden you to tears,Deep Emotions, renovate. .Whichever, the caseNever underestimate,A Poem’s Grace.