The Word Breeder

If stories still mate,
and fairytales born
then in days to come, a legend will be.
Of an unknown curse, scribbled out in verse
of the poet that few will ever see.

The voice that is sent, in ink stained lament
tells of death, love and all that will remain
ages from now, all wondering how
from nothing, a legend is he

Oh, this tragic magic that spills out in thoughts
begs the question of who may ever read
words that speak, in art's heartbeat
and the lonely old poet's good deeds

by Daniel Roser

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