Poets are hidden, like us.
Dawn arrives,
And we're still awake
Together with our pen friend
Let's scribbling sheets and sheets ...
Our compositions speak of love
Of life, the world, hope and faith
At headquarters and in the measure
The beat of our hearts
No one knows
What is happening in our thoughts
Not where it comes from so much inspiration
The midnight rain
The joy, friendship, companionship.
The pain of a friend
Or a lost love
Reasons to write in silence ...
Silent type ...
We do not need to scream to the world
A true poet always knows
The right time to talk
Mysteriously, go typing.
Learn to win or lose
It depends on us alone
Perhaps you read, do not understand.
Perhaps never be able to understand.
But in every corner of the world.
Is there anyone so ...
The scribble on their leaves
Over his long or short
Thoughts, restless and alive.
A hidden poet.
But we understand ourselves
Because both are
Hidden poets.