Poetry is like an addiction,
It is such a strange condition;
I cannot sit, I cannot stand,
I’ve no rest till I grab a pen;
To write down all I feel and see,
Compelled to write all shown to me.
Thoughts and words float into my head,
Be it I’m eating or in bed;
I welcome them all with delight.
Consciousness raised to a new height;
As we have to earth a live wire,
Thoughts need to be controlled, like fire.
I’m bubbling to tell all around,
Your thoughts are alive!...write them down.