Mon, 07/08/2013 - 20:31 -- JTbobo


I never thought much of my poems

The silly little things I would scribble in my notebook during class

While my Calc teacher would give me numbers to ponder

My mind would always stray to words

Words that would FREE me from this boring plane and bring me to the fantastical realm that was and is my mind

Where I could be both a hopeless romantic and a bitter cynic

A stern old crone and a satirical ass

Both a boy and man

It was always in these words I found my ESCAPE

The ink and the lead in my book would come alive and take form

Grab my hand and whisk me away to anywhere I wished to be

For who wants to truly live in this dull world

With all these impoverished souls

Why join all the average joes when with words you can be great

There is no sky except for the one you choose to create when you write

And that is why I do it

Not for the fame or recognition or money or         love

I write because I am FREE

And I am FREE because I write


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