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Everything is overseenWind blows through the treesI see the gleam from the rain drops on the leavesThe grass a shade of greenSo peaceful So siren Grey clouds stream In the sky
I sit with a post it, Willing the words from my sophomoric mind, And they do not come, For I have nothing to say.   
Wandering Words  A violin has potential to awaken a heart with her lovely tune Just as words have the potential To free someone
The pain that I felt over the years The kind that brought those silent tears The more I saw my heart break The less of a women in myself I thought I could make Many times I thought I fought my love
Broken streets mind is forced to travel, Empty soul enforced to search. Trembling hands hunt for redemption, Merely paper they unearth.   Lips begin to quiver As crystal escapes at last,
He writes poetry, He writes art. Poetry brings out the loud voice within him, Poetry was the elation he needed during those dark moments in high school. Yes, poetry was his anti-depressant. His drug.
  The 5 senses I was blessed with became my curse   I saw, I felt, I smelled, I heard, i tasted what my life offered me   My hopes, thoughts, and dreams became deflected  
As I sit in my room I ponder the many reasons why I write. A ponder and wonder and think for a moment. I have many reasons, and I shall try to be contrite.... I write to escape.
Poetry What it meant to me before Just words written in a stanza With rhymes and patterns I knew that they’re art expressed in words
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