Pens Have A Point
Liquid lights and trickling thoughts Lift me onto honeyed horizons. Chipped memories are diamond dust Offering rescue, precious little distractions. Incendiary inks pour across pages, Weave whispers, revolutionary reveries. Mantras spike, surge formless days Casting colours like salt through the seas.
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I love this. 😀 you had me at nypmhs.
I think if you add a divider after your poem though it would help because it runs right into the next sentence. So it is a bit confusing of when the poem ends at the first read.