With no outlet they hide
Tired of fighting
Reduced to mere babble
Strangers unravel
With nothing inviting
So I try to unload
With poetry and prose
Hoping for enlightening
Where is my muse
Lost and abused
Poetic passion frightening
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1 comment:
And yet, in poetry you succeed. The muse is there. He just needs to be teased forth from the darkened corners into the light.
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