Poem By Patryk Krzywon
Another sleepless night drives me to my keyboard
Where ideas are born, from impregnated thoughts
And grow into verses, that won't let me be bored,
I'm alone, but they keep me company. I'm not
Going to sleep any time soon, I've been through
This almost a hundred times this year and
There's hardly been a hundred days yet, too,
So I'm no stranger, and neither are my hands,
To the sleepless nights of writing at my
PC, personally, 'cause it's personal, you see,
I have all the time in the world, but no time to cry,
'Cause tears are no good, they'd just be blinding me.
And how can I blinded write anything? Any-verse?
There are strange ways of thinking that people have,
'Cause I would never, I think, combine gift with curse,
But most people do, and it's something they hate to love.
Copyright and all that...