The Poet

The arts truly this is life a life so real.


Enslaved to what i alone do feel.

It lifts me up it bears my soul.

To this force alone i give me whole.

This warmth within my breast.

This fire raging wild within my chest.

Indescribable,my thoughts and fears.

My hopes and tears.

I cannot from this disposition hide it grips me so.

Carrying me yonder oer and oer.

It cuts me sunder and wrangs at the very sinew of my bone.

This manic passion i call mine own.

The Gods immortal have spoken.

On my heart the written word has broken.

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