When the snake of doubt engulfs the purity of belief,

Altering the passages of conscious,

Calling for a mind of oblivion,

poetry is the antidote.

As the being searches for companionship,

We count the stars.

We gather the moon and call her our own,

She makes the world light in dark.

so we fabricate words of love.

When emotive ink becomes the essence,

that flows deeper than rivers of blood,

Which grants us with breath

we create words the tongue fails to express.

Poetry never dare diminish the passion of my ticker.

Even as the atmosphere of life fogs up,

She is eternally unwavering.

So, when passages of life become obscure

Find solidarity in your pen, for poetry is the cure.