Poetry is what surrounds you, the air you breath, the the golden sunset you see, the chirping birds you hear, yet the wind that blows off your clothes such that we see your naked mind.
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simonpoetically: MY ROSE FLOWER : I envy a rose flower I envy its rosy fragrance I envy its splendid elegance I envy your angelic elegan...
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What is it about me? That though yearning To be beyond reproach I always find myself wanting The much I strive to toe the line ...
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What ails you my old jewel That your once adorable streets Are now tributaries of a massive river Of blood What demon lurks...
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