A sudden need takes over me,
As lines take over my brain,
Overflowing its space
And making me go insane.
The lines from writers before me,
And poems that need to be written
Take over my body
And make me fall into a unique rhythm.
If I am walking,
My feet stamp them out,
Words by syllables
Then stanzas by line.
How I wish I had paper
Each time these lines come out.
"How beautiful a moment
Devoid of all our sounds."
But then to go and write the rest,
I'm sorry to have found,
All my lines, from beginning to end,
Are laying on the ground.
Too bad they are invisible,
I would go and pick them up.
But, I guess that was what
A speaker, whose name I've long forgotten meant
When he said:
"Poetry is an overflow of emotion."
And to that I would like to add,
Without a sense of time or space!
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