don't call me a poet, I'm just writing ideas lived through experiences that sometimes send out free verses of love or drawing in few with explicit lines
its not my pen that bleeds but the pain from my soul that causes me to cry out
sometimes wearing a mask, setting an image of someone that's unreal
a heart that flows free on a cloud knowing that all isn't giving, but yet I'm washed out like hurricanes just to be planted seeds growing again
needing nourishment but often fed the politic lying, drowning in my own sorrow of embarrassment
feeling like a lost girl headed for her first day of school
don't call me a poet, I'm just a survivor who out came what I thought was impossible and decided to share my loose leaf of jotted ball points and erased marks
that taught lessons and thereafter I found forgiveness, so you see I am far from a poet< I'm just a woman with a pad filled with stories