Poetry Drips Like Poison

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Poetry
drips like poison
from his fingertips
and passion
seizes his mind
until there is no more hope.
Salvation
is found in the most unlikely places
and freedom’s price
is a life well lived.
Behind
safety, anonymity and assurance,
good intentions
may rob your soul
of its open window
may close out the light
until your love wastes away
in a dark cellar.
The prisons of our minds
are no more dangerous
than the eyes with which we see.

And I wanted to love you.
But you took away my voice.

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