Poetry
To what can I compare to poetry, though it be my life.
Every breath. Breathing in, inhale the life.
Every step. Moving toward my sources.
Every touch. Feeling the world around me.
Every kiss. Pecking the untouched words.
Poetry is everywhere, everywhere there is poetry.
to the lines on the page that I write my soul,
to the very tear that stings my lips as I feel the unstoppable
unbearable
suffering
of
words.
That is poetry.
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