Sursa imaginii/Source of the image: AICI/HERE!
A poet is not just a person. He is a mix of two persons – him and his ego. A poet doesn’t beg for mercy or attention, doesn’t ask for love or admiration and doesn’t expect nothing from the others. A poet is quiet on the outside, no matter what kind of war his soul is battling in. A poet respects the nature, a poet loves the environment’s simplicity, a poet can hear the shouts of the souls surrounding him.
A poet’s face is burnt by the shadow of the tears he allowed to drain from his eyes. A poet’s face is full of wrinkles, because of the turmoil inside his soul.
And still, his soul remains pure. A poet can not make any harm to anybody, he can not blame no one for his own feelings, he doesn’t even ask for compensations. He remains there, stuck in his own world, with his only friends – his hand, the pen and the paper. A poet accepts his doom. A poet is more than just a single person.