I am deeply in love with poetry
Without poetry, I will die of readiness
My mind is the creator of new ideas
My hand aches, if I do not hold a pen
My pen weeps, if it stays away from my hand
I am a slave of this poetry thing

The writing cycle is continuous
My eyes read my mind stores
My RAM will never run out of space
My mind posts it to the hand, via blood transfusion
The pen is a hand of an already writer
That’s me, the poetry slave.

NESBERT 'survivor' ZENGENI
Wild of poetry