Poetry burns in me, a raging fire, <br />A welcome guest, that I desire. <br />From deep with the darkness of my soul, <br />Its endless explanations make me whole. <br /> <br />I write sometimes in madness, <br />Optimistic, and in gladness, <br />About convictions in my life, <br />Emptiness...my wife. <br /> <br />With willingness in my heart, <br />Twelve thousand miles apart. <br /> <br />Like a blindman, I'm willing to see, <br />Yet still, there's no guarantee, <br />Wars' my present and my past, <br />Scars I hope won't last. <br /> <br />Suppression that I find, <br />Irregularities in my mind, <br />But now a sudden rush of new ideas, <br />Distilling all my fears.<br /><br />Philip Lore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poetry-123/
