Only when your paper is scribbled and tainted and crumpled and wrecked and as covered as your emotions after years of being chained back, have you wrote, a poem. When your arm feels cramped but you just can't stop because the words keep flowing and your blood keeps pumping and your pencil sounds like a ten piece orchestra then and only then so when the clock stops ticking and the world around you is a blurr then, you have wrote, a poem... 
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- InTheDark, dor1316, timothy21, PenSword72, bobbybuilder, Qball, sarcasm_only, JodieT, eule10012, jaybyrd and 1 other like this
- reposted by timothy21
