Gradually,
A poet will die,
When his hands cannot write
And his eyes sees no light
Drain his ink
And eat his heart
Rob his ego
Till he feels the vigor
Use not a knife
For a knife is not enough
Use not a gun
For a gun is too good
Give him love
Untill he falls
Eat his thoughts
And give him a hug
Solemnly, i tell you,
A poet would die
When he look the sky and see no Stars
Nor the sun,and sees no light
Then surely, he shall take a bow, and say Adieu...
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