To you who preach to me about restrictions.

[poet_at_heart]

With oil black as the night,
I invite you into an enchanted forest,
stealing your emotions from your chest.

With a golden sun above us,
we can listen to stories untold,
to waves crashing against foreign coasts.

The words created by me,
do they truly leave you without feeling?
The oil and the sun I use,
can I not make you burn with them?

Simply speaking out dry sentences,
talking about useless things such as restrictions,
acting all high and mighty where you stand.

Are you blind to the winding ink?
To the darkness and light entwined over here?
Have you lost your ability to smile or rage?

My dear "teacher" at your podium,
what I create with my pen is worlds.
It is stories and legends of people's emotions,
there is nothing simple about them at all.