The Poet's Mood
Loose words,
Pour from my poem;
Those words,
Like a requiem.
Express,
My inner fears;
Impress,
My charming dears.
I write,
To while the night;
And fight,
Its deathly fright.
At dawn,
Atop my desk;
I won,
And wore my crest!
Copyright © Osayande Osaghae | Year Posted 2014
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