THE POETRY HOE

This thing called poetry..


It..haunts Me.


As I lay in the bed..


Words swirling around in My head.


Sometimes it too much to handle.


My life.. so dark..


Poetry... My candle.


All around My house.. you'll find pages and pages.


Poems that will outlast... the ages


Even as I write this..I'm thinking of the next.


Always trying to do better than My best.


I even have a poem ready for when I meet GOD.


After I spit My flow..


He's gonna give Me that "I feel you" nod.


Poetry is like a disease..


I create a paragraph with just one sneeze.


But all these words falling in My Brain...


Like huge drops of rain...


And if I can't express Myself...


I'll go quietly insane.


But I keep on writing cause..that's all I know.


Poetry is My Pimp.


and I'm...


its Hoe.


E.c. 201209 05