The Gift Within

aren't all poets cursed
with idealism and romantic views
their magic pens writing words
secretly at dawns breath
weaving dreams and life
captured in one Rosy thought

aren't all poets trapped
inside a world only spirits comprehend
having to put down in blue blood
what they really want to express

aren't all poets doomed
to a life of calloused  finger inseams
coffee stained  desk blotters
and a world of disappointment

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