Nothing poetic was ever written,
But I alwsys thought of it as a vision
I look for my brain's talent everyday in depth
Looking for a hand for help
Enviornment simple minded and basic
Poetry, some love it, some hate it
Young Poragatory hearts in my face
Not waking up to slow down the pace
A hand was never there for their taking
Resulting their hearts growing up helpful
It let me open the door for potential
because the negative veiwed it just as a pencil
they were in line already for failure
But their motivation helped me, for the better
So, With out my right hand
My thoughts would've drained fast as quicksand
I could've taken the easy way out
But the hard way grew my sprout.