Why will I stay a few seconds,didn't you throw me away will my luggage,saying I belong to bush and now I make my ghetto a studio and to sing with your coil voice you may need my service.
I feel it in the air,I was robbed of my articles,I was told I was a fool,why not legal backup,I feel I could start over but more had been lost trying to take my stand.
I lost faith in waking up to sing his eulogy,he was shy to profess me when people gather but in the secret of the four walls in my room, he said I mean the world to him.
In my patience,I earned respect,in love,I earned people who took me for granted, familiarity breeds contempt but I will not lose sight of those that rule my world.
Writing as a skill can be learn, good disposition and vast composition. Poet can be introverts,but nobody fights you for being an extrovert...what matters is the idea you have to convey to large audience.
I had stood by this river bank for over 22years,hoping and douching, diving and lacking... The fire is still burning only because it's inborn should I learn this act;I could have given up
I wasn't born with a pen but with fingers, I wasn't born with how to make it but with my brain... I will make do with what I have;maybe the story will change
Come closer, maybe you will see your choice, the moment you stood afar, you keep wondering what may be going on here... Give it more than a trial, make it a way.