"I will have a cocktail of
Bukowski's angst,
Gibran's perspective,
Blake's poignancy,
Frost's lucidity,
& Neruda's romance.
Thank you!"
But Life was no bartender.
He was more of a gardener.
So he gave me a sapling.
I watered it, nurtured it,
It's a poe-tree now.
I'm neither of the poets
I wanted to be.
I'm my own seed,
I'm my own flower,
I'm my own fruit.
I'm a piece of me.
Life ensured that.
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