The readers are the souls of the text, without them, these embossed letters are simply abstract shapes impressed on a useless white rag. The splendor of poetry is due to the disappointments and imperfectness of the writer, the reality that literature which is adored and praised by the viewers is actually a diary of a crestfallen knight reaching up for the bloody saddle of his horse. Unrecognized by many, the poet and his thoughts are never comrades, in fact, two personalities terrorizing each other on the least expected, unhappy occasions.

Adrian Jr. A. Maronilla
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