Poetry
...where there was no rhythm,
no tone to sooth the flow of creative thoughts.
No originality, no style, no passion, no emotions,
of feelings whatsoever.
No imaginative expression, no distinctive writing,
no literary works.
No, no, no. The only thing missing was yes,
not music it was I,
where letters were the instruments played,
on the pages read.
me your love addiction, or thoughtful notion,
me poetry I smile, frown; wow! It was I…
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