Wicked Gift

No sleep for the wicked, but don't mistake wicked for being gifted.

Maybe I’m just gifted at being wicked.

When my mind gets twisted, I find ways to get lifted.

But that’s a fate I can’t take.

Through these poetic words I discover the courage to document my ugly truths about depression, violence, and abuse.

That’s why I'm hopelessly hoping I can remain focused on my wife and kids who I miss.

Even though physically I'm here, mentally I'm elsewhere.

Isolated in my thoughts. Simply a visual imagery of memories that are new to me.

Blinded by rage, trapped in a cage. Trying to escape is key for me.

The key for me is this poetic therapy. 

A side of me people rarely see. Let me guide you through a troubled mind. 

This is my Wicked Gift. 

Poetry is the window to my soul, which typically I keep closed.

It’s not normal for me to be this formal.

With my expressive expressions of past, current, and future transgressions.

I pour my soul in these untold scenes I've seen.

As well as the mean things I see when I dream.

This pen is my pass through my past, I'm feeling free at last.

A way to dispel the mental hell of pain, anger, and misery that has mentally been crippling me, yet keeping me sane 

Remember me for not who I used to be, but who you currently see

Allow me to reintroduce myself as

Kendrick McVay