Labels:text | screenshot | font OCR: The poet to the reader My thoughts don't flow so smoothly as I sit down to write. I lose a little word or phrase along the way and the poesy diminishes. Life is limited, exceedingly so, not by the restraints, Of death, but by the restraints of humanity. I am facetious. I never show my true face, hidden by a masque of cold words. I am lost in my sentiments, failed interpretations of Pretty sounding words strung together from the bottom of my heart. I shall not wax poetic, nor shall I bore you with observations Of nature and laments of a hard life. The essence of the poem escapes me, as they are just words, empty words. Yet they seem to affect, as they create the desired image that The poet wishes to bring to his perpetual audience, Thusly creating a lifetime of remembrance. Based on the twisted observations of Israfel [Gothic]
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