What Youre Made Of
I was always told to claim what you are
And I was always told to not settle for par.
For better or for worse, self is to soul married
Prose or perfect verse, words and actions will be carried.
To follow you, the heart, the piece of all that is, trying to come home,
To be true, from the start to who you are til you return to sea foam.
Be misaligned is an influence malign to keep me from my lines.
But the confines of sidelines keeping me and mines from penning from wines
Surely introduces trying times.
When I’m without rhymes.
When I’m not disloyal to me and my poet
But my heart disagrees, so my hand; it slows it.
The mistake is made when I can’t find my pen
Or when I just don’t feel like I am who I’ve been.
Not disloyal, just not me.
Less than royal, with no crown to see.
Prince in spirit, ordinarily, not a king
But a page clear, it strips me of even a noble’s ring.
I can’t make excuses, it’s not something I’ve been taught.
Because I am made of mistakes and learnings; excuses, I am not.
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