Mynd

A poem about writing

Blankly I stare at an empty page,
Frankly I’m scared of what I might say.
My mind always finding its own way,
Once it’s released from its lonely cage.

Romantic tales somehow end in rage,
A maze of such amazing word play.
Poetic veils that describe today,
Painting the world as if it’s my stage.

Reviews

[Edward Lancheister]

i the second chapter of your poems its really have a great rhyme when written "Romantic tales somehow end in rage,
A maze of such amazing word play.
Poetic veils that describe today,
Painting the world as if it’s my stage."

a fast rhyme with great end