I am a soul who loves poetry beyond words. I find healing not in loud expressions, but in quiet verses. Each line I read or write becomes a shelter for my emotions, a mirror for my thoughts, and a balm for silent wounds. In the rhythm of poetry, I rediscover myself. Between the lines, I find a language that speaks what my heart often cannot say aloud. For me, poetry is not just art—it is a quiet conversation with life itself.
I counted the days, one by one,
Long before the end had begun.
And then came April 24—still and wild,
A day that stole my inner child.
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My dear son,
As you grow and move through life,
There will be times when things feel too hard.
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My Dear Sons,
As time moves on,
The once vivid paths of your life may seem to fade into shadow.
...