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About This Poem
To Poets Who Say They Are Not Poets
The doorway to my mind
Once again shall be forever closed
Words I used to fling
Like birds as they sing
Have all been properly disposed
This world that I tried to change
Has kept me hidden from its view
So I would begin to think
That my words just stink
Although that may not actually be true
Thinking of myself as a poet
Though maybe nothing more than a bumbling fool
From my heart I would pour
Simple words to adore
But perhaps I should have studied poetry in school
Yet a sadness still grips my heart
Like a thorny rosebush as it grows
With the beauty of its flowers
Growing skyward as it towers
Though near it,no one ever goes
Many poets say they are not poets
I say this mere fact is simply untrue
For the words you write
Are read with pure delight
Once written from the soul within you
Written By:
Some guy who thought he was a poet
On 2-6-13
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