jessyjames Porter Poet Rhyme

If It Weren’t For Me

Here I sit with my paper and a pen,
wondering just where I should begin.
 As I stumble over words, to write those thing’s be true,
how they trip over each other, I wonder what to do.
 Words come out with out rhythm or flow,
I begin to get discouraged, my nerves begin to grow.
 All the noise now when I sit down to write,
with my own words, I do have to fight.
 Page after page, in the trash you see,
where would myself and I go if it weren’t for me.
 All and all, and after all, I’ll still set down to write,
finally my words come together, some truth to shed a light.

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