doesnt matter who feels it, someone does.
thats what poetry is.
the words left unsaid.
the thoughts we think late at night we lie in bed
waiting for sleep to claim us
and take us away
make us feel the night and forget the day
then in the morning, we wake again
as the night slips quietly away
hoping for not another poetic day
full of words left unsaid
feeling left unspoken
doors left wide open
but unfortunately we are creatures of our nature,
victims of our morals
and from this we will all peril
from the words left unsaid

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