They often judge the poet
On the words that he thread
Some readers formed his silhouette
In each poetry that they've read
Judge him not at one piece, else you'll be upset
Because his pen can laugh then can bleed
In every second his mind will reset
Truly, you'll never know what's inside his head
In the universe of paper and quill
He can create truth within lies
He can put the soul to nonliving
Some of his creations will never die
Every poesy made was alive
Talked of its own tongue
They'll definitely survive
Even the poet was long gone
Vote and share your opinion
Mysterious Aries / Simplyfred