Poetry grabs my attention; where so much else fails.
Visceral wordplay take my mind to a tranquil garden, that
no
one
knows
exists
The tremble in my veins, the quiver in my skin
It all means nothing; yet, strangely all seems gained
The simple power of poetry, and what a dead man's
whispers really mean; carry legends in your pocket, for
you never know when a simple man will need a
strange day