When I read, all that I write
I can feel a funny fright.
What it is, I’m sure you know,
Let’s say it can always grow.

When I write, it’s when I live
Then I am prepared to give
Everything, from love to hate
And discuss of our fate.

When I live, it’s when I feel
How my layers start to peel,
From the outer, cold and bleak
To the one which we all seek.

When I feel, it’s when I love.
Free like any purple dove;
For I learn it every day
When I see her in my way…