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The Poet's Canvas
The Artist sits in front of the Canvas
A pen strait from the mind
The idea is not made before
But instead comes from inside
The words bleed out like a gaping wound
Non-stop until dry
The words bring inspiration to all
Leaving some blinking from their cry
This seat can be yours
You have no restraint
Do not fear
For you already have the paint
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This piece is my first one published, and would love some feedback. It is how I relate to poetry, and what I belive poetry means in my heart.