And

I sleep inside nature's womb and

 cry,laugh and eat and love.

I float on snowflakes in winter's bloom.

A cold and icy flying costume.

I think to myself of artists and muses.

Think of a drop and all of those bruises,

which may be sailing on many cruises,

but nonetheless my heart still refuses.

Reviews

[Bill]

I'm still brand new to this site, so for the time being I'm doing by best to hold up my end of the bargain by giving comments to anybody who takes the time to give me comments.

This poem is beautiful. The meter of the last four lines is perfect. Somebody should be singing this.

As for your "about me" section: Never listen to anybody who "deems you unable." Unable to do what? Become a famous poet? Get your poems into a highschool literature textbook? Since the dawn of time, there have been about five hundred million poets. About 0.000000001% of them ever earned a dime from their poetry or made it into a textbook. And the list of household name poets out there stopped growing at the turn of the last century. Basically, when somebody endeavors to write a poem, they damn well better understand that they're doing it for themselves, whether that be for boredom, enjoyment, or catharsis. Somebody who sees fit to "deem somebody else unable" probably has some self-examination of their own to worry about.

[Suavis_Umbra]

OH MY GOD , thank you so much XD XD XD , it means so much!!!