End of the Road

Every word I spoke Every thought I wrote It came from the heart It burned in my soul A final time I peddle My craft for the world to see A 14 year run finally done And it was so much fun But there sure was pain Perhaps I was vain But I had something to gain When I felt so much worse About every written verse This is when I reflect A toast to the boy Who started with limericks Writing 10 poems a day Learning his craft Placed in creative writing He discovered a voice A knack for spoken word As he fought to be heard He promised to chew mints So his rhymes were fresh But it became a struggle Over time to find that voice That year after year Seemed just a little fainter Lacking the creative passion Of metaphors and imagery Lacking the raw emotion Behind each and every word So while this will not be A magnum opus of any sort It is a farewell to the hobby That served as an outlet From a sixteen year old kid To a thirty year old man Let this be my final word But not the final time I'm heard