Give me your hand
as we walk through the sand…
let me speak to you to help you understand
the pen is my life and the paper its wife.
They go together like a hand and a glove;
they create words that inspire.
See: the beauty of this passion
is the ability to make any man have nobility.
I can be your knight on a horse
or your demon that shows no remorse;
I can paint a picture with these words that transpire.
I write because I can;
I write because I am a fan,
a fan of beauty in every shape and form.
No matter how dark or tormented,
all I see is wonder in these words that I conceive.
Few understand the addiction that I am in
but it is not one of sin
but of one that helps me to win,
win the hearts of those around me
with these words that I hold so dear;
I write to bring you fear, or maybe even a tear,
a tear of sadness, or even joy.
My words can bring you pleasure,
pleasure beyond your wildest dreams;
nothing is ever forced :
my words can help you rejoice,
rejoice the freedom that I bring,
a freedom lost in this time
where if you speak your mind, it can be unkind.
I write truth in its purest form:
in this age it is something that brings scorn.
I write to free my mind, not to gain dollar signs.
My love for you will always grow;
if it were not for you I could be buried below.
You inspired me to move on with my life,
given me wisdom beyond my years.
Now help to finish what I was born to do,
which is to help those darkened few
that are lost but can be renewed