But, I feel for all those,
That have died, in vain,
For a World that doesn’t even care,
If there is Justice or despair.
Oh my tears could fill the Sea,
World, full of Hypocrisy.
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What are great poems made of?
Belief in more than sorrow,Hope, seeds for a better tomorrow,More Love than hate,Inspiration that cannot wait,Dreams you cannot borrow,And the sweet, melodious chirping,Of a newborn, innocent sparrow.
Please,
Don’t leave me,I’ve got but youTo believe me,Stay a littleLonger,I’ll be goodI promise!Like a childWhose love,Only growsStronger.
In the solitude of unrest,
The poet are blessedBy their art,In a world of confusionAnd interests that groanAnd tear you apart,Not knowing whereTo turn,Consolation and peaceHave to comeFrom within,As we learn how to swimIn the muddy waters ofPerfidy, duplicityAnd sin,Where life searchesIts tragic endingAnd honesty,Cannot win!
We can’t all be good,
Not to harm those around us,Or make innocent Roses, cry.
Filtered by Art, Cinema and Dreams,
Lost, gone too far, Lost, gone forever?Not knowing where or who you really areOr if you’re coming apart at the seams,Trying to live, too many dangerous dreams.
How do we become poets?
But please don’t stifle,That inner glow!