Confession of a Poetess
My poems were born in darkness
I make bouquets out of my losses
And transform my nightmares
Into mysterious rose gardens
When I hear satanic music
I sing of water lilies floating
Like the souls of swans on the lakes
Enclosed by my sadness
Yes, I hide myself behind a gate of words
Words are my soldiers, my friends
With them, I make my faithful army
And make peace with the world
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