My Craft.! - Poem by Ruby Hamilton
The peace of the silence serene the cold laid deep within my touch.
Numb from tranquility, the squeeze loosen my trance.
Unaware of its possession, I gain state from a daze.
Days hynotic, I lose grasp of consciousness.
Floating on formations, the format mates.
Screen developed, play perform productions.
In a labor of mental times, the result thread together sisters.
A competition in compare, they compose in a form scripting to be the best.
Lines recalled, they place last best.
A born sign she will be no comparison.
Designing tones pressed in expession, stains leak of a better craft.!
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