I tie on my kite string and launch my poem and following the rules of its form sudden beauty is spontaneous

rhyme seeks forth its entrance and pays for its loam taking what is available of art and answering it traditionally for it seeks to fly toward tomorrow await it in silence and witness how all of the people I love the most are the same that I want to impress not for my pride for just for the fact they held tight to my thread while I sped up, up,up, up higher than clouds yet I can never forget how good it felt.

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