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wish I could paint. I see the beauty in art. No, I see the beautiful in life. Wrong, I see the beauty in all. But when I’m facing the canvas no matter how meticulously, how skillfully I make my brush strokes my I can’t make the connection. My brain can’t send the proper signals to translate the vision that echoes through from the trenches of my heart onto a canvas. And I wish to be poem. I wish to have complexities that people actually read into. Or even make an effort to understand. But I’m plain, just tolerable enough. no one would read me. I am a poet, but not a good one. And no one will read this useless piece. I’ve tried getting people to read my “poems”. The first feedback I received, in direct quotation, was “it doesn’t rhyme though”.
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It doesn’t have to 😉
Replythis was beautiful . i could feel how you felt when you wrote it . you are a poet and a good one
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