i ran from her but she finally caught me.
and she made me realize that this pouring out of heart and soul in the form of letters, built into words, to make sentences, and later stanzas that form a structure of thought provoking ideas and statements, that keeps our minds stimulated, THAT is what sets me free.

and at that moment, when my pen drops and i sigh in relief because i was able to tell this paper, this object that once was wood, this part of nature, my thoughts and feelings, my view on politics and the world, my deepest secrets, my true love, i feel refreshed.
and as this black, shiny, small object tells its bold story and proves to you that language can be strong, black, and beautiful, the world listens and for that moment is meshed.

powerful, yes she is. heartfelt, devoted, simple yet complicated, defiant, brave, true, hated, disturbed, mutilated, corrupted. and still you can't help but to feel her inside you.
she is there and she will cause u pain unless you let her out. sadly we, we that pour out our hearts and souls in the form of letters, built into words, to make sentences, and later stanzas that form a structure of thought provoking ideas and statements, that keeps our minds stimulated, we are only few.

while the rest are still in pain, crying, dying, trying to figure out what’s wrong,
we remain strong. because we have found the secret. we have her right where we need her. she no longer taints us, but she nurtures us and supplies us with tender care. She consoles us. she keeps us sane.

SHE------ IS------ POETRY!