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Inside
the heart of a poet,
Such a fragile place to be,
With so many thoughts and feelings,
Just wanting to be free.
He lives a life that's different
Than the average guy we meet,
He sees beyond the natural realm,
While others seem to sleep.
When
we see someone paint a scene,
He sees one with a vision,
When we see someone work all day,
He sees one in a 'prison'.
When
we see words upon the page,
He sees light and sound,
When we see all the things that are,
He sees where they're bound.
He
really doesn't think like us,
But that's okay, you see,
For it is the heart of the poet,
That makes us feel so free.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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