I'm letters.
Unique with different tones.On Evenings I desire that letters will be compressed to words, like marrow.Their origins will fill my bones.Definitions would fill my voids.Only then can the population feel my passages, as I fill pages body's with sound messages.Me.I'm transparent.An open book for sorrowed souls to read.Equipped with paragraphs boldly displaying my trials turned triumphs.Me.I'm a sinner who wakes to pray for enough wisdom to repent.I at times subconsciously sin.Then I repent again.All the while disappointingly shaking my head, again.Me.I'm my Mother's daughter and God's blessed seed.You asked, who am I?Well, I'm but a mere human being.Me. I'm Mother Angelou's ink from her pen, when she composed "Phenomenal Woman."She gave me strength to be Frost's Minor Bird."Me.I'm the Fugees.Easily, I'm "Blunted on reality."So, with such sanity.It's not hard for me to comprehend that "Nothing gold can stay."Me.I'm many poems that poets scribe at night.Pondering hard for hours while they sit.Many hours past.I still scribe as I lay.My poems are the light bulbs that come in to sight.When Writer's block tries to have it's way.Me.I'm layers of God's plan.By far am I perfect in any way.Me.I'm grateful for my gift.So, to who I am.I've thoroughly explained.M.T.F.D.