The Magic Word It’s funny how people react on the written words of mine/Poetry-smitten herds of rhymes, lines I so precisely design/Verses I twine, a light I let to shine, only to fade away/Decay to the tiniest straw of ray to betray my world of gray/To sway away to the moon and the stars I find so wonderful /To forget the scars of time, torn asunder ghosts of hateful/I never relied on religions, I find them misleading and odd/Some seen me draw angels, asked me if I believe in God/Oh, yes, I believe in the glory of The Lord, grace of divinity/The affinity of my soul and tranquility of infinite eternity/But the words I write, pictures I draw, are just a tiny piece/Of my vast world of magic, a place where I’m at peace/Where I might not feel, but still sing of love and devotion/Where emotions are memories of bitter tears in an ocean/But still so sweet even if sour, delightful but still so ghastly/A vastly heat of love I devour, as gaily flames go to ashes lastly/