World of expression, noW
Reclaiming your passion, so give thanks to our makeR
Invisible words escaping from my soul like air from a bronchI
Teaching myself, feeling found deep in a poet’s hearT
Ink spilling out across the screen, words flowing free like snow beneath a skI
Never questioning myself, what does it meaN
Gathering my thoughts within my head, before EscapinG
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very well done once again, one of these days, I would steal this style: -)