Poet
Teach me, tawny
eyed, tortured traveler.
Some ancient, latent force
that you alone transcribe
in a leather-bound hymnal
On paper humbled by
the power of your words,
the acid of your ink
that can burn minds, and
quench the thirst for
insight.
You touch beyond the world
to Truth, to Love, to Pain.
A verse can bind the world
And you can write it














Comments
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The way I see it, you have three choices. You can sink, you can swim, or you can develop a set of gills. Personally, I'd be most impressed by that last one.
I'm going to kill you so hard you will die to death.
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