If poetry is my oxygen
Then words are my trees
I keep forests of them
And when sunlight filters
Through the canopy of their branches
Creativity will be the photosynthesis
And produce more poetry
More oxygen
So that I may continue to thrive
YOU ARE READING
Written in the Wondering State
Poetry"If we exist only to someday cease, Who are we here to please? These drops of life we continue to seize; Do they make us thieves?" If poetry is constantly spilling out of me like ink upon the parchment of an aspiring writer, then why not write it al...
