They think I'm crazy,
Living an illusion,
High on rhymes
and on words I'm drunken.
But funny how they fail to see
the passion
behind the words beautifully woven.
- Perhaps, it's selective vision.
Shutting your eyes
won't stop the rising sun.
Fire your bullets,
go on being the judge
It won't matter much!
Because,
My spirit won't die
the words won't cease to flow
For I'm a self confessed poet
Each new poem will only Glow
- the previous one will seem mellow!
.Pd. is here
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/self-confessed-poet-judgements/
