From here, I see no significance,
As though this life does not count,
Do these words make a difference?
Helping the lost to be found?
A composition with diligence,
To strike a change that is profound,
Or is this exposition an irrelevance?
Rhymes that make no sense to the sound,
Yet, my insides are stirring,
Yearning words to appear on blank page,
No train of thought comes steering,
At times gibberish typed to age,
The more I push through the clearing,
The better these expressions engage,
Where passion starts its burning,
Releasing inspiration from its cage,
But rejection after rejection,
Dwindling the desires to create,
Stanzas now dusty collections,
Expanded ideas start to deflate,
Until a moment of reflection,
Wanderings begin to gyrate,
Hoping for such perfection,
But to whom will these words relate,
My eyes cannot compare what they've seen,
To the beats that my heart has skipped,
As long as my mind is always keen,
Breaking codes that life has encrypt,
Though I may always be deemed,
A blunder in constant defeat,
Destinies will intertwined and convene,
To make my Universe complete.

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