Mind of a Poet
A calling to arms but with words do I fight
thoughts doing battle each sleepless night
A blessing to some, but to me just a curse
Bleeding my soul in unscripted verse
The muse does her calling
there's no matter of time
to the masses I'm speaking
in free form or rhyme
The letters they drip from an unstable brain
they may look like happy but they're purely insane
The twists and the turns,
the wheels always churn
so lend me your lighter
let's watch them burn
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