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Poets only write when they're emo
Find me a poet
Who says otherwise
And I shall denounce him as a liar

       on the spot

Mood makes for great revelations
The higher the peaks, 
   the harder the falls
Whatever the emotional wave be
When the soul is close to the fire,
   then the words burn to be released.

The ink flows madly
When chasing love,
   or mending hate
When jealousy eats like acid or envy flashes her liquid green eyes
How easily it all pours forth.

Pushing your limits
   hours sleepless
   the emotional gates opened
You pillage and plunder
   rummaging through the depths of 
   your memories 
   your spirit
   your loves and your losses
   every fiber of your being 
For the words
   to shout
   to rhyme
   to curse
   to infuse your soul into
         so that any reader that stumbles upon your aftermath
         can recognize, relate and commend
         100 percent.

When the waters are calm
  our lives unstressed
Who writes?
   Tepid, lukewarm, apathetic, indifferent
   The days when one foot in front of the other
   Leads to writing paths dull and dry
   The calm before the storm
     of a poet's fury.
Moments of sanity, true
   and yet.....

Poets only write when they're emo 
Find me a poet 
Who says otherwise 
And I shall shake his hand
   possibly envy him

But I won't read his work.
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