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Young Poets 4th Kind

He fears that he is destined for the third.

I meanwhile, invite you in, the doors are open.
The mind is boiling nicely in its' fire
Soon it will brew and the result will spew
But I digress from this digestive discourse.
Melancholia and Rapture both disease and cure
As the world turns on its imperfect axle
With poets and artists driven mad
Mad I say, because they can't change it
Or rather they won't change it
Not yet, not while they live
But their death and legacy shall live on
Fat load of good to those individuals.
These are the ones with a rooted agenda
Lines of vicious charged consciousness
Bitterness and anger at how it is and how it should be.
They'll produce and write but to no avail,
Not for the moment as I've said, the seed is there.
These are the ones who spent too long in their head
They can't turn off, or fit in, or end it by being dead.

This is the fourth kind to which I belong to.
Its not an option for better and worse.



Written by Viddax (Lord Viddax)
Published
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