All i do is pour my mind and heart into empty pages,they call it poetry,
all i do is act on my passion,they call it sins,
all i feel is pain and sorrow,they call it love.
From the mystic rivers in my mind,
i am bound and terrorized,
from the rocky mountains around me,i am judged and victimized,
from the leafy surbarbs of my neighbours,
i am discriminated upon and prejudiced,
who will let me in?
Who will let me in?
I am a mere poet in love with his words and his pen,
is that a sin?then please let me in!
who am i?
its rhetoric,
hard to answer,
but still this question,spreads like cancer,
so i chose to answer!!!
hoping i would be dreadful like cancer,
I am an ero
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