It runs in my veins this beauty called poerty
i take my pen and grab some mead paper this is where it all begins
this masterpeice is my only friend
we have an unspoken bond its poetry in which i love
defining such a indesribable incredable short story is more that just a sentence of words a paragraph of cries its beatiful lies, memories both good and bad, healed brusies, and life poetry is who i am
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem