Poetic Cry
Breath of inspiration passes through my nostrils
My thoughts have been raped by my imagination
But the height of my understanding is still as short as life itself
So let me climb on this ladder of knowledge in pursuit of wisdom
For no man is ever wise enough for himself
Draw me with my Lines and label me with my letters
Let the anatomy of my ideals come alive
The voice of an artist the voice of a poet
Of what use if creativity is deaf ....
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