I must admit, Poetry can sometimes feel Like a big box of mixed chocolates
I guess you get to experience A little bit of all The poet personality
The illusionist man = Chocolate and nuts The joyful times = caramel and nougats The sadness moments = melted chocolate The love stories = pure chocolate The pain with no end in sight The untold truth One never hungry enough to tell = empty box of chocolate
Sometimes you love it Sometimes it makes you sick To your stomach When allow yourself To consume more than enough
And then, Just when you think Youβve got Just about enough of it all
You wake up the next morning And you want to get your mind lost In itβs abyss