Poet
I love to read
words being a remedy for what other things
couldn’t mend
My first name;
It just came to me,
I never know what to say
But,
Whatever it is it’s part of me
So you listen to the voice in the back of your mind telling you it's time.
Or it's time to rhyme,
And if you don't write whatever's coming down
It haunts you.
Either in its forgottenness or by being played on replay in your head.
When i can't write i find a place
And i repeat the part over and over
Till it’s stuck in my head
Forever.
Because it's not a race when i can’t remember,
My first name.
If i can't remember why you came
[for me] to write.
If I’d speed speak in my speak writing,
I'd be missing something.
My first name