I am your finished concoction,
of what you're inspired to write,
Born on your blank piece of paper,
Developed from deepest insights,

I may toy with your inner feelings,
Bared from the depths of your heart,
My aim is to enter a strangers mind,
From memories never to depart,

My desire is to be reborn again,
By anyone who's willing to read me,
Be now your inspired manefestation,
Your dear departed poetry.