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I wrote it I live it (prelude to spoken life )
I WROTE IT, I LIVE IT
I wrote it I live it, I paint a picture so vivid
I spoke it I feel it moments I pivot
My blood is black and Indian ... ink
I humbly just give it
Praise I just store and give it to the king
Pride is a gaping hole of nothing
A testimony fills it with something
Something better that you
Something better than me
Faith has shown
Me infinite possibilities
I am just a pad
Covered with unfinished words
An entity called Pen
Has been a servant that I've also served
Feeding each other
Like host and parasite
Poetry is dead
Without my life.
