To me,
Poetry is the serendipitous encounter
Of my dark utensil diluted with freedom
Drawn upon the ****** lined paper
Poetry is my wings of thought
Where my secrets submerge within the ink of a pen, from which every stroke is selectively drawn
It’s where I fear nothing
My bubble of elusive adoration
With poetry, I am safe.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
To me,
Poetry is the serendipitous encounter
Of my dark utensil diluted with freedom
Drawn upon the ****** lined paper
Poetry is my wings of thought
Where my secrets submerge within the ink of a pen, from which every stroke is selectively drawn
It’s where I fear nothing
My bubble of elusive adoration
With poetry, I am safe.
