This is my last poetry,
Im poor cant buy those feathers I see.
will somebody help me,
i want to continue with my journey
or is it a goodbye,
a happiness to write no lies.
I've made my trials,
in poetry all of us are immortals.
We are the walking arts,
with our inkhearts.
a tribute to those who writes,
this is my last i have no darts.
I can't pay to write again,
I loved all who'll remember my name.
©zedek
Z