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Poetry

By kissingdawn331, palatine, IL

When I am euphoric
Poetry
flows from my hand as
water
flows from a stream.

When I am dejected and depressed
in unimaginable ways
Poetry
drips from my pen as
blood
drips from a wounded
heart.

Poetry IS Me.

Even when there is no pen at hand and no paper to be found
Poetry
runs through
my head
like a


sweet



mystical




song.



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