Best Undirected Poems
UndirectedMy hand, with pen, it writes in script
Before my mind so guides
The words come out, they are so formed
They pour from deep inside
The subject matter, matters not
For it will all make sense
As half way through I’ll read aloud
To see just where I went
At that point...
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Categories:
undirected, on writing and words
Form:
Quatrain