She was so dramatically inclined to write her poetry all the time
She'd write it on the walls and paint with words on bathroom stalls
She'd sleep all day and write at night
The ink in the pen became her sight
She would paint the world in text they'd know and in her words she felt they would grow
Something different and something feirce, and through their hearts her words would peirce
Tragic moments written with ease, her mind gave hand thoughts to please. When she cried as she wrote, her life she did devote an art so deep, intriquete and fine, Her pen dazzled papers through her time.
When she felt so dramatically inclined to write poetry all the time
The walls of the world would cry in joy, when the world embraced her thoughtful ploy.
She'd tell the stories so sad and true, and in the end it was all for you.

Written By: Remy-San (January 5th, 200 cool