Poetry is the movement of your mind, even to be ENJOYED by the blind. Personally it FLOWS out from my soul and boils my heart as if its been HEATED by flaming coals. Poetry is expression, indiscretion, depression and everything above, but to my mind. and eyes poetry is LOVED.Poetry is my arm on a hot summers day hot, EXCRETING, sculpted, but it will still MOVES even in decay as poetry does and always has.

Poetry is my love and will be till I’m driven completely and suddenly MAD.

its also always there to PICK me up when I’m sad.