Violet
The Utopian Syndicate
Posts: 24
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Post by Violet on Mar 28, 2011 19:28:16 GMT -8
The world made the incisions which bleed onto paper The fount into which he dips his pen drawing the black that gives life to thought. He pulls verse from his veins, Coerces his tears into canto Until his eyes are too desiccated to shut. The poet. Capable of healing those he touches but never himself.
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Post by dragonyear on Mar 30, 2011 1:45:35 GMT -8
One of my all time favorits
The poet's rallying cry
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