• Destined

    The rose that grew on concrete could have been just another seed thrown probably on a random without the intention of making it grow. It landed on concrete; an infertile

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    And I told her

    I know my heart cannot be opened to confirm if the words that flow out of my mouth are genuine but the look in my eyes would bear me witness

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  • Poetry is…

    Poetry is you Poetry is me Poetry’s the hue our mind’s eyes see. Poetry is abstract as much as it attracts your sense of reading to the poet’s ideas written.

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    Unleash you to paradise

    Give me your ears let me tell you a secret that will trigger your senses enlighten your thoughts arouse your appetite and open your eyes. Give me your eyes let

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