We stay up all night
to find words that rhyme.
We scribble. We write,
losing track of time.
We stare into space,
deep in thought.
From a child's fairy-tale
to the wars fought.
We can't stay still.
Our fingers, they itch.
With no path to follow,
in dreams we are rich.
We dance and fly
but crash to the floor.
We laugh and cry
with our emotions galore.
Smiling while judging,
we scribble. We write.
From petty love stories
to the furious fights.
Over incomplete lines,
we again lose sleep.
Muttering new words
as we silently weep.
We see the world
the way no one would.
We break the rules
the way no one could.
A new day begins
with all new themes.
"Which one to choose?"
Our minds scream.
We scribble. We write
with bees in our bonnets.
From epic ballads
to the melancholic sonnets.
With passion in our blood,
and a calloused hand,
we are poets.
Together we stand.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 8:02 AM UTC
We stay up all night
to find words that rhyme.
We scribble. We write,
losing track of time.
We stare into space,
deep in thought.
From a child's fairy-tale
to the wars fought.
We can't stay still.
Our fingers, they itch.
With no path to follow,
in dreams we are rich.
We dance and fly
but crash to the floor.
We laugh and cry
with our emotions galore.
Smiling while judging,
we scribble. We write.
From petty love stories
to the furious fights.
Over incomplete lines,
we again lose sleep.
Muttering new words
as we silently weep.
We see the world
the way no one would.
We break the rules
the way no one could.
A new day begins
with all new themes.
"Which one to choose?"
Our minds scream.
We scribble. We write
with bees in our bonnets.
From epic ballads
to the melancholic sonnets.
With passion in our blood,
and a calloused hand,
we are poets.
Together we stand.
