Keirheim

The purest form of freedom Writing whatever you believe on Paper cause ain't nothing greater Than setting your dreams on Fire getting higher where you think They might not belong But words just make the sounds that you tell 'em Saying "Dream On" Don't stop not even for The red signs or the red lines And when you running out of room It still lives in your mind In your heart, in your soul, seeking The way to be expressed So if it ain't part of your being Then it ain't you, it ain't true So find whatever you believe in And let it out Yes, this is what poetry sings about So if they ask me Poetry is being me, without a doubt.