Solitude’s Bloodroots


Poetry becomes my wisdom
Subduing the melancholy
I bleed like a warrior
Make touch red to blue.

I catch a Freesia breeze
Holding fragrant peacock quill
To write my soul's graffiti
A carmine inked dream....

And then I find " a face in poetry "
In the amaranthine pause of my  breath.

# Dodoitsu

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