I assume writing sinks me in the seas of desperation
It shows the gloomiest feelings I lock inside
It makes all excesses come to life
It makes my heart jump on a higher happiness when Joy lights up
It makes my soul get blackened by the dark sad desolation
It produces exaggeration
It makes me stick to a temporary situation
It glows it shines,
It hurts it kills
It kills all thoughts, For words they turn
Spontaneous not, clear slate does not.
2007-10-05
15:54:39
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4 answers
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asked by
Calíope!*
3
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry