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
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