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Writers are illusionists,
For they create imagery;
Imprisoned in their minds,
While setting the whole world free.

Writers are heros,
For they have superpowers;
Walking for miles before they sleep,
Only to shine like insomniac stars.

Writers are clowns,
For they can make you laugh;
Humouring you through their ironies,
Unveiling only their happy half.

Writers are divine,
For they can give life;
To the sun & the sea & the shore,
Calming and soothing all your strife!

Writers are deranged,
For they find poetry in all shapes;
From needles to knives,
They talk to these inani'mates'

Writers are intense,
For they feel too much;
Like mimosa of the plant kingdom,
Writing away about the slightest of touch.

Writers are deceptive,
For they are the best liars,
Exaggerating these simple sentences,
Helping you escape your monotonous quagmires.

Writers are humble-beings,
For they always are connected to their roots;
Building wonders from mere words,
To which the whole world ends up paying tributes!
This poem is for all the people who helped me learn so so much in such less time.

Thank you all!
Falling in love
With my sweetheart
She's truly from heaven above
An Angel in my life she's
So beautiful and so bright
And with every touch she
Warms my heart and with
Every kiss I'm forever in love.
She's An Angel 😍❤️
We were laying in bed
and I was drowning in your gaze.
You wrapped your arms around
me and slowly whispered in my ear
that I was a national treasure to you.
You told me my essence,
my power, and my presence
overwhelmed you and that
I was your Niagara Falls.
I am haunted:
Not by poltergeist,
but by my unlived lives.
Parallel universes
won't ever speak,
they took an oath
to keep from me.
I have words and voices
humming in my head
that will never be met
outside of my bed.
I have to accept
I cannot have it all,
I have to accept
knowing nothing at all.
I am sinking, clearly,
I am sinking deep,
I think.
closed her
eyes and took
a very deep breath,
crossed her fingers then
w  h     i     s    p   e    r     e   d,
"I long to see the   o n l  y
man who made me
shine in his
I held the shell to the ear with a hand

I listened to the breath of Posidon

And the laughter of mermaids

As I sat on the cold Winter sand

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