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Poetic Addiction

 
it seems, i desperately write poetry or prose
things that only the mad persons dare compose
for lack of skilled handicraft, its just a cause
escape into sickness, addicted in poetic overdose
 
armed with a pen, full of inky powder to sniff
if to  a certain morbid level, i come to grieve
i get the eager need to then, trace the lines
leave a sad track behind, now,i'm looking fine
 
poetical addiction has really taken its toll
i look like derwish,in filthy streets i stroll
ironically called "Nabi" for the words i preach
after long been in school the abcs' i would teach
 
look at me, now, do i look like a sane creature?
from school walls, into streets halls, i venture
i can hardly remember a good book i've past read
Plato or keats for me, are fairy tales before bed
 
so, my addiction has far gone beyond poetic oblivion
i feel like hermit isolated inside some lost asylum
as i write my poem, i can only address cows and sheep
for they know what a derwish ,in his mind might keep
Written by poeticdelight (SilentlySpoken)
Published
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