𝓟𝓸𝓮𝓶𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

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𝓕𝓵𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓟𝓸𝓮𝓶𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓻𝓱𝔂𝓶𝓮

It sounds as delirious and stupid as when one says pigs fly, But trust me and believe me and listen to my tale,

Might you listen, might you read, someday, somehow, somewhere it will make sense,

Poems have wings, that is a fact, one you must believe if you wish to understand

This tale, and poems at all, so upon I begin my tale, 

Once upon a time, I began writing poems, Hoping and forcing, Each word to rhyme.

It became a wonderful hobbie, But something still just didn't feel right,

All of the verses I wrote, Missed out something special, Something, was simply gone. Oh, once upon a time,


I shared my love for these poems, And won magnificient of support,

That something that was missing, Became a shallow hole of void in my heart.

I searched for a way to fill out, This blooming fire that started I had,


That consumed all of my will to write, When I began to think,

All poems have to rhyme. Indeed, once upon a time,

When I had just begun to write, I thought a rhyme was what a poem had need. To be one at all.


Poems need not to rhyme. They need flourishing love for them.

They need emotion. The need that heartfelt and deep feeling of whatever emotion inside to be,

They need to be able to fly.


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