My Muse
Lately, I've become accustomed to the way the cold world and how it effects me
Each time I go out in society or hear the wind being cut by the broad edged of my personality
They have no choice but to see I'm a perfect imperfection...
I've almost crashed and burned but I found you while discovering correction.
Still I feel locked in with no options and all I taste is toxins
And now, each night as I count the stars I think of my word play while giving birth to my muse.
As I get lost I allow my thoughts to break loose.
And when the day breaks,
I transform back into the beast spoken of in beautiful revelation.
Inhale and exhale this creation.
Nobody writes poetry anymore.
And then last night I tiptoed on the line of life cause I began to shed tears at the sight of myself dying inside
So much for trying to hide
To everyone all they see is aggression and yet I'm just saying things with passion
Don't they understand the concept of what's happening
Talking to someone, who is hungry like me and the only way we can eat is through determination
Too many full of hesitation
If the door opens don't panic, cause no one's there...
And be disappointed because you thought they cared
lonely me on bended knees, writing my painful realty
Bow my head let my hands meet and remember that Poetry is the only way I can break free
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