You are wind,
You are fire,
The flame that burns to my creative soul.
Are you created?
Are you gifted?
Or are you just a thought?
Maybe you are magic,
The way you bring a visual to your readers with a few cleverly chosen words.
Who are you? Poetry?
I ask who? Are you?
You run through my veins,
Deep in my soul.
I live for you, in you, with you,
Just to share part of your name.
Poet, am I?
I am, poet I am and if not then poetry set me free.
For without your title my words mean nothing.
My words, not a message no more.
My words now just a mere conversation blending with society and it's normal ways.