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Prisoner of Poetry
I am a purple prisoner of poetry
For when I can’t write woe is me
Darkens my sky the flowetry
Enriches my life the soul of me
Some do drugs roll with me
I just do hugs go with me
Grasping the love of a sheet
Of paper, pen and ink is peace
Muse is a turquoise tool guides me
Ideas are precious jewels inside me
It’s an affliction of discovery
A kind of mission red recovery
Righting what is wrong you see
Writing poems sonnets songs to sing
Some are like the ivory breeze
Others crash into onyx dead sea
One hopes to be indigo inspiring
To tickle brain cells cherry firing
To leave readers denim desiring
Or perhaps even enjoying inquiring
In the jail of a black bipolar mind
Where hell is back and forth in time
Words can be a key or lemon lock in crime
Can be of forms free or form that rhymes
Needing readers to read gives me a high
Hoping that you see a message from divine
Copyright ©
Karen Jones
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