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Poetry and I
I used to write, a spoken heart some would call me
My pen was my bestfriend, she never left me
Her ink would speak on my souls behalf, my heart had a voice then
Many tears fell at her side, ink and pain she portrayed
Yet many verses came and went, some of love, some of pain her voice all the same
I cant help but look into a womans eyes and dare to gaze into her life
Women speak with their eyes, their scent that captures the point of beauty in a man
Their soft hair, golden brown to cherry black and i fall to imagine which one i will marry
Women are the flowers of Gods garden beautiful beyond imagination
They inspire the wild heart of mine to spit verse after verse I am Romeo
Any woman whose eyes lay upon these humble words of spoken truth
Know you are beautiful...
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