It conjures bliss that soothes the mind and eases the heart. The fabric of time rips and reality falls apart. what is speaks is called truth a genre of life bestowed upon the youth,obsessed with this reality that has been forgotten,its rotten it grips the wound like cotton. So it joins fiction a slight addiction to the diction it gives an electrical shock to imagination so that it may live. What is poetry? a way of life or a habit? a poisonous substance that creates a hole in us like acid? havoc it sometimes reeks and still we seek it creeps in the conscious of all minds and but we hide it...