Interpreting life through hundreds of words each and every
day through poetry.
Unlikely subjects at times come into an expressive existence
with the stroke of a pen.
Ink flowing through this mind, forming thoughts that make
sense.
Wanting to ride into many sunsets, writing effortlessly,
without any barriers in the way.
Loving the exercise it creates for my mind, taking it on
extensive journeys through intellect and imagination.
Tenderly and quietly, letting the world know what is being
felt about the way we are being treated in this evil and
arrogant world.
People trying to change everything for the worst, letting
only certain ones have the say-so of millions of people.
Don't they see the ridiculousness of such an inane feat?
We are all unique individuals, having separate ideas, thoughts,
creations, inventions and attitudes.
We are not a box of crayons, yet they are ignorant enough
to think this of us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We are human beings who are using these crayons just to be. Thanks.