Out of crassitude with gross vision Awakened to just another lip service A mind deaf and obstinate to my opinion A heart so hard , the passion waned From your cup I tested the wine felt amiably pleasant in a moment devine your decietful tone blurred my senses A vocal utterance breaking through my defences On the eve of crossing the line my liberty denied being subject to your concience my innerself detected an accurate vivid sign A discovery that revealed a Vision unclear
Poetry is music and music is magic.....it is my voice, the brush that paints my feelings.