I have fifty minutes to bring up a nice poem but it seems my head is getting a bit of an ache
I believe in everything you do strive for perfection, it’s not just about writing a piece but a masterpiece that’ll be celebrated even when you’re long gone
People see poetry as mumbo jumbo of words
that we just write they fail to understand is more than just passion it’s the truth that the world is afraid to see
I write my feelings, my emotions, the truth about the world sometimes it might seem i am loosing my mind but i am having a conversation with the world
Even when there is no one to pass on my feelings to it seems the words i have produced on the blank sheet with the ink is happy with me
It’s as if he’s delighted i brought him into this world and how one day can be called a masterpiece and be kept in a showroom for the world to glance at him and appreciate the beauty of the words
The world should understand not just the beauty of the words but what it’s communicating to each and every one of us because every line differ though relates and affects us in a way which we do not know
Poetry makes my silent words become spoken it gives the weak and fragile a chance to navigate his way in the toughest of all situations and bring out the best in them
I am short of words but i still find a way to communicate with the inner me as it produces thoughts, expression and voices which will bring this poem to an end
In every piece is life but not just life it’s us, it’s our desire, what we are passing through or a memory it just depends on what we call it for we see what others don’t see and say what the people that see are to scared to say
so you much call us the prophets of our time or whatever it may be but we won’t stop writing until the revolution takes place