When you’re born,
From your
Mother’s cocoon,
Torn.
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I run to Poetry,
And there,Some peace and satisfaction,Find.The atrocities committed,And yet to come,Make it difficultNot to become numb.But Poetry saves,Brings Beauty back,Gives you hope,When all is blackPoetry saves,And so does Art,They are the waves,That heal, the heart.
Yes, the road to Hell,
Lies from Truth, you cannot tell.
Every poem, a painting,
Impressions you can’t arrest,Impressions you can’t forget,Feelings and emotions,Of happiness or distress,Stamped in words forever,As in a painting, at its best.
Drowning in the deep hollow chambers
Where there are no contenders,Just unhappiness,Life seems like a shadow,That travels back and forth,Darkness, a step awayFrustration, of course.No where to go,No where to stayAnd this drowning Silence,That rivets you away,That chokes a little more,Each passing day.Gone are the smiles,That with you one day,We shared together,Like children at play.But Life is not easy,Solitude less,Love is…
What you say and do,
But not tomorrow,We are ever changing creatures,Like the weather,Good today, Stormy tomorrow.
You can’t teach someone,
Become an artistOr love a rhyme,So strangeHow these are giftsYou’re born with,Regardless of who you are,Where you’re fromOr passing time.That is real democracyTo be you,And what you want to be,Individuality!For every human beingA great necessityWithout freedomWe are nothingSo if you know itGuard it,To the utmostOf your possibilities.Freedom is every person’sResponsibility.