Baring to Look
I find myself a half
Of what's left to be the world
A bright star, so far
I can only reach within this small shine
A speck consisting of nothing more than myself,
A muse and a shape.
Air can lift me but with what wind?
And I'm still so adorned with the lost
Not accompanied with myself
To whom I bare to look through
Circling the water.
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Poetry is a very beautiful thing in my life, helping me express the feelings and thoughts I never could. Writing for me is only caused when I'm in a deep state of mind, just like my father who I would like to say thank you, for always loving and supporting me. My poems are my home and I don't know where I'd be without them. If your eyes can see so many things and your hands can write a billion words, what beauty can you shed?