Poetry burns in me, a raging fire, br A welcome guest, that I desire. br From deep with the darkness of my soul, br Its endless explanations make me whole. br br I write sometimes in madness, br Optimistic, and in gladness, br About convictions in my life, br Emptiness...my wife. br br With willingness in my heart, br Twelve thousand miles apart. br br Like a blindman, I'm willing to see, br Yet still, there's no guarantee, br Wars' my present and my past, br Scars I hope won't last. br br Suppression that I find, br Irregularities in my mind, br But now a sudden rush of new ideas, br Distilling all my fears.