A Poet’s Tale

A poet’s soul,

Is neither kind nor forgiving.

We have been hardened by life,

And moulded by its strife.

These are things we are not born with, but acquire:

Eyes that reek of judgement,

Tongue bitter from the taste of truth,

And an imagination that defies gravity.

These are things we do not dread, but desire:

Nights devoid of sleep,

Passion that burns a hole through your heart,

And a mind that obeys no one.

© Abirami

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