A simple disclaimer

I put forth now

That what I say is me

Identity forevermore

Another thing to say

Is that this may be askew

Poetic meter never trained

My heart to hand speak through

But nevertheless this is me

A person full of feelings

Tortured perpetually

To record all observed not all performed

For social acts are not in nature

And trapped beneath my lips reformed

Reclusive pride in hidden stature

Quickly fingers carve

Pages upon pages of prose

Or sing-song croons

Saddened by trials thrown

Upon self due to bent action

Or omission of thereof

But again, this I have to say

I must restore my song

That everything I cannot write

Is written above and beyond

For what I cannot speak

I am given words to say

For what I cannot do

I am given power from prayer

And all this to say

That my strength alone cannot bare

Feelings endowed to me

Endowed by my Creator

Are gifts, not tortures to ease my aching mind

To call upon artistry

Of sentence, word, and line

And thus create a picture

For all to see and know

That who I am is not just writer shy

But a Son of God by love