The mind moves mountains.

Poetry in motion proves louder than –

The lies that corrupt people’s lives.

The stinging songs of society will expire,

Exasperating sighs of the soul will tire,

The truth will triumph no matter the cost,

Before every crown comes the cross.

If poetry is the power to end every plight,

I’d gladly say, “This is why I write.”

Before you see through my eyes, walk my line,

Breathe through my lungs and tour my mind.

Tour through my veins; through my flesh,

You will understand why life is vain, a frail test.

So if I ever get the chance to chant rhymes,

I’ll take it and dance to it every time.

The skill and the will and the futile fights,

To prove the world isn’t all black and white,

This is why I write.

As I’m

Chased by the many demons in the night,

They compel me to make things right.

And I’m seeing

Tears that are not my own.

And I finally understand

That which is sown, is grown, and is eventually mown.

The shadows are just too close for comfort,

And the pain in my chest is becoming too tight,

So if poetry is the power to end every plight,

I’d gladly say, “This is why I write.”