The poets were right.
Articulation dies like the smokers liver.
Romanticism falls when sex we consider.
Now I know the poets were correct.
I sit in my room with thoughts to reflect.
No longer having the urge to steal.
All I want is the right to feel.
Because my heart has found peace.
I found a place to release.
Something so simple like a dove.
Expressing feelings of love.
The poets were correct.
My urges to do wrong are gone.
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