Poem
-[unwritten]-
I am a poem; the solitary thought of a master penman.
Cradled by the gutter, and forgotten in an instant.
Adopted by the wind when I was handed my sentence.
I cringe when I remember brittle life as an infant;
When my future was unknown...just a misplaced loose leaf,
Doomed to loose sleep over new grief that fused me-
To you, see?...you induce me to spew these jewels free
From my soul, and use these hard times to grow deep
No sleep, I know these rambling’s are soo bleak
But it shows that I am; at least that’s what the wind told me.
I am a poem...a discarded piece of paper...
an expression of opinion, a profound dictator
I can tell you life missions, only if you listen to me...
Though I am absolute, I'm see as obsolete
sustained from the times of ancient civilization
To my new, adapted role, in the new generation
An impeccable energy, and flow that i provide...
able to capture the true essence of an ocean's urgent cries
sweet roses, romantic, abolition of grim...
pronounced scent of glory travels through the winds
outlook seems fatal in this world but to live is my choice
it seems pointless now tho...since i'm a disregarded voice...
I am a poem; A story bound to leave in vapors
I constantly bleed the capers of the needless labors
That noone’s pleased to savor, and my plead is wavered
Cause I’m nothing more that a piece of paper...
I am a blank loose-leaf, without one drop of ink
But if you stop to thing, I stand for what’s not written;
Every story that never saw daylight’s visions...
So watch the men without voice’s words unfold,
Blank!...I represent the life of stories untold
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I am a blank poem; representative of words, unwritten
1st verse by: Wicked
2nd verse by: T West
3rd verse by: Wicked