Unpublished Fellow Poem by Saint Cynosure
Unpublished Fellow
Lost within his scattered words,
he cannot write what's want for heard.
He chooses not a well trained path,
constant fighting with his pen.
He's not the passion of the poet,
not the wisdom of the theif.
Confuses even true himself,
his words of unbeleif.
Madness is what makes him sing,
while screaming in his pillow.
The ink he's left don't mean a thing,
poor unpublished fellow..-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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9/22/2024 10:31:17 AM # 1.0.0.1119
