Can I just say that I write like a maniac
That I'm addicted to the pen like it's crack
Words and witty phrases fill my head on an everyday basis
Even when I walk around I tend to see them scribbled on peoples faces
So if you catch me staring it's not to be rude
Or even that I'm stuck lookin' at you
But rather that I'm reading the words off your face for a project that needs completing
And I see them on walls so I tend to stare off even when I'm eating
Everything I do I narrate like I'm in a book
So I speak aloud a lot while moving on foot
It helps to keep me focused on my talents
Eventhough my gift can seem like a curse making people think I'm off balance
To be honest I kinda have to be, to write about something plucked out of thin air
Something that I mold and shape untill it's ready to share
To shout from the roof tops for all the ears waiting to listen
And listening ears have said that I make words my
But often I see the words as Jordan and I'm just Pipen
Cause without the right words I wouldn't be
I'd be just another mental case
Although one with and immovable pen attached to my right hand
So all the credit to the dictionary of my mind setting the tone and pace
That turns my random awkwardness into art that makes me the man
Not just another basic chick doing a simple dance
Instead performing an intricate ballet making the pages infront of me a stage
Giving me outlet for my happiness my sadness my strangeness my rage
I put it all down and let the words rhythmically skitter about
Sometime hesitant revealing doubt
That maybe they weren't perfectly placed as every step should be
But having more reality that way allowing for the imperfections that we try to hide but all can see
Or maybe that's just how it reads in my mind
Because every word is special in my eyes
Whether vulgar, intelligent, or simple
The use and placement of each is absolutely critical
And as long as they egsist they shall be my craving
But you know I'm just saying...