In the spirit of humanity,

But only Poetry can describe,The hurt of Life’s, sometimes black tide,The birth of every morning’s pride,That gives Life a brand new stride,With the love we cannot hide,The good life we hope to live,All of that,Just a few inspired lines may give,And it’s free from poet’s heart,Where sincerity is art.

I can’t seem to write,Force is not might,For you can’t force feelings,And you can’t pretend height,If you are not feeling, the right inspiration,No matter what your poetic inclination,That day or that night,Poor little birdie-poetYou most certainly won’t,Be able to write.

The Sincere,The open hearts.Who, fear notThe solitude of ArtBut do fear,The lying hypocrisies,That tear us apart.

A whisper, emotion,Without a face.What am I without you?Just fallen grace,A shadow that trembles,An empty embrace,That makes the World,The Loneliest place.

We don’t want to give up,LIFE,Until our last breath,We are seeking,The reason, why we cling to life,The reason, why we ARE.

What is normal, what is not?Or Who made the rules for what?In a World that’s upside down,Difficult, to wear a crown.