From blank pages to thoughts, ideas, and situations
A writer’s best weapons are solitude and patience
Tried a pen and pad but could barely read what I wrote
Frustrated I contemplated losing all hope
Illustrated my narrative in every spare minuteNotes on my iPhone pushing every limit
Short rhymes of these times who, what, when, where, why, and how
My words make some cry and others smile
Making something from nothing is such a rush
Ain’t even gonna lie most of it sucks
Then every now and again
I write a real gem
Treasure by any measure from one’s mind is win
Didn’t need a class or a book to tell me where to begin
I found it buried deep from within
A spell in me compelling me to rhyme on a whim
Of these times that we’re currently in
History’s writers lit my fire so we can blaze once again
It’s imperative that we control the narrative
Otherwise history lies and skews our heritage
Holocausts vanish and wrongs are ignored
When the righteous are resented the radical will be adored