Combined
Once there was a man that thought he could write.
Within his mind, he wavered a terrible fight.
Only he knew; weathered writes that could define.
Not of madness or failure or even that of wine,
He studied persons that flowed around his state.
Not criticizing or judging, learning from the wait.
His thoughts and words sometimes thought raw.
His mind hiding secrets though never to fall,
His findings revealed; a secret everyone held.
Without a secret, no life would be compelled.
Each human has a Devil and Angel that hides.
Which one wins the battle to which all confides?
When the words fly outward from within his soul,
Holding reprimands of dysfunction without any goal.
Was he a writer, poet, philosopher not so trite.
What feelings drove him in his positioned flight?
His mind wondered in and out of existence defined.
Within his mind, he wavered a terrible fight combined.
Copyright © Cecil Hickman | Year Posted 2009
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