Myself, the Poet
Myself, The Poet
Anonymous is my presence
Yet my presence is everywhere
I see things you too see
But different is the way I see.
I ponder for the real life,
But not for the reel life.
The words I scribble down
Comes directly from my heart.
Poems, a shower of bliss
My heart pours out in a fizz.
Weightless is my being
The moment I finish my poem.
Should I make myself known
For my readers to feel with me
Their vision can be my mission
When I paint the social cause.
The poet in me rejoices
When you feel along with me
My death arises when you
Throw my work aside.
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