Moral awareness, social obligation, the words that come out are domesticated.
There are euphemisms in every phrase. But deep, deep in the abyss of my mind resides my raw and restless thoughts.
There is a whirlwind in my head of words, thoughts, and phrases that emulate the real me.
As I hem my raw voice in every line and stitch each with the life of mine, it becomes my essence.
The poet in me is full of convictions that I can only express with ink and splatter.
It is my dewdrop in a scorching world; it is through passion that I conceive the nameless wells of emotion within me.
Poetry is my voice, my need, my want, my past and present it is the whirlwind of mine.