I have a poetic soul, somewhere deep inside me.
And it's screaming too be let out,
To find a place in my everyday,
To be in charge, or at least have a say.
My inner poet yearns for literary freedom.
It understands the power of words,
It glories in their beauty,
And feels the tangible strength they give.
My poetic soul is impatient and hungry,
And it scares me a little.
So I keep it locked up,
And only let it out on special occasions.
To be admired and mourned from a distance.
I have that same little leaflet of sonnets! Let it out, you won't be disappointed ;)
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