I have words to say and I use my words to speak like a singer with her voice or an artist with his brush verse is how I reap None will ever hear the notion I lay crying lest my pen into my hand I take to set the ink to flying
In my words, my wings unfurl and I am uncaged and free. Feel the wing upon my face and know my words are me. The language from inside run as personal as blood that stains the inky paper and washes off the mud.
Once my lines are finished all the world is clear I can see into forever and beckons, "Come here."