Am i a page to you?
A chapter
Or a whole story?
Do you see me or just the surface of my body?
Do you know what i love?
Do you care about what i hate?
If my mind is a palace - can you open the gate?
Would you even want to?
And if so - would you handle all that blue?
Or do you have better things to do?
Do you think that so far this poem is rather lame?
You can be honest - there won\'t be any blame
Beacuse sometimes that\'s just a part of the game
In which there is no winning or losing
Just better or worse days
Of makeing sense out of life\'s haze
Just know that i read the kind of poetry i would like to write
And i write the kind of poetry i would like to read
I love those moments when i sit in front of paper and bleed
For that\'s the way
As described by mr. Hamingway
When they asked him how to write
And he knew a thing or two about it
So same as him - i\'ll take my soul and try to translate it
And i\'ll be doing that on and on without end
Beacuse that\'s it - that\'s writing my friend