Thursday, March 31, 2005

the begining

I am a destroyer
I have taken this
Perfect white paper and
ruined it
My pen
To perfection
Has created
To be burned
Like my body
This will be burned
When it is all said and
All of this is
Meaning less

There is poetry
There is the full moon
The kiss of your lover on your back
The pain in “Ugolino and his sons”
The beauty of art
Torment and creation
A glass of wine
All of this and more
Is worth the
I feel everyday
And it gives me the right
To create
To use these pages
To give the world
More beauty
More pain
More art

Because when its all over
This will be burned to
Ash, y
My words
Will live on
In the hearts and
Of those
I touch

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