Poetry
I eat it
Nothing is as much sweet
I drink it
Nothing has ever tasted like it
Not even the finest of wines
I inhale it
Nothing sustains like it
The purest form of oxygen.
I surf on it
Unimagined beauty
Not even the biggest tide
I fly on it
Higher than any pair if wings can take you
No even those of an eagle
I puke it
And I lick all of it
It taste as fresh as from the oven.
Nothing compares to poetry
Ask every poet
He/she will tell you same.
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