This is not yet my poem
the poem of my soul & of my blood....no
i still lack knowledge & power 2 write my poem
the great poem i feel turning in me
my poem wanders aimlessly
my poem is made 2 suffer shyly
in the closed room of a worthless boss idling
to build up an appetite for the violation
my poem knows nothing of itself
nor how 2 plead
my poem was made 2 give itself
to surrender itself
without asking for anything
but my poem is not fatalist
my poem is a poem that already wants & already knows
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- Like Dreamers Do.
- My Poem
- RELEASE ME, RELEASE YOURSELF
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- would Tomorrow Still Come Today
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