I write my inspirations
They come at all hours
I am in every lovers case
Channeling my soul
In every bitter moment,
My opened mouth,
Sours with contempt.
In every ire faced
I have my pride displaced
And in every hurt
Sliced through my heart
Travelers in my veins
Words oozing from my pores
Distilled purified and placed
In a hearts arrangement
That follows the path of its creation
No such other words will suffice
None such other writes will affect me,
No such compassion poured forth
None can understand the generosity
in Each crafted line
ssoothing, abating, healing my soul
For me more than a matter of taste
Or style, structure or reason;
Borrow my words by all means
return them favoured to taste
But I still profess for me,
Nobody says it better.