With pen in hand and heart aflame,
The poet crafts their artful game.
They weave a tapestry of thought and rhyme,
A world of emotions, intertwined in time.

Their mind a maze of metaphors and dreams,
Where words dance forth, like moonlit beams.
With each stroke of the pen, a piece unfolds,
A fragment of their soul, for all to hold.

Ink flows like blood,...