Time stood still outside of my hour glass so I decided to write.
I was told that writing was a cowards way out but to me its freedom.
I can live the life I have chosen through my pen turning words into memories of times never shared but remembered in my subconscious wanting.
I just let the words and the metaphors live inside my soul until I'm ready to let them spring forth from my pen and give life to creation.
With my pen and paper I feel like God's child speaking that which is not into existence.
With my pen I can scratch out past atrocities reborn of pain as if that section of my life never existed.
While my pen is given free rain I can imagine my flesh and organs on the sunny beaches of Brazil making my caramel skin bronze and revealing freckles on my nose.
I am given future happiness through my pen baring me children and a husband that don't currently exist.
My pen gives me away to beat down the ultimate enemy making God ruler of all in his kingdom and in his people.
Heavens gates open wide for me because I let my spoken words on paper reveal my true heart to God the only way that I know how through this pen.
I know that I have the strength to make it through the hard times with my soul running free across pages of times.
I have the spirit of an angel ready to receive her wings and take flight throughout this crazy world and create peace where there is none.
I am not a spoken word artist I am a poet and I am able to make wishes come true with just the flick of my wrist, some ink and a sheet of paper.
I was told that writing was a cowards way out but to me its freedom.
I can live the life I have chosen through my pen turning words into memories of times never shared but remembered in my subconscious wanting.
I just let the words and the metaphors live inside my soul until I'm ready to let them spring forth from my pen and give life to creation.
With my pen and paper I feel like God's child speaking that which is not into existence.
With my pen I can scratch out past atrocities reborn of pain as if that section of my life never existed.
While my pen is given free rain I can imagine my flesh and organs on the sunny beaches of Brazil making my caramel skin bronze and revealing freckles on my nose.
I am given future happiness through my pen baring me children and a husband that don't currently exist.
My pen gives me away to beat down the ultimate enemy making God ruler of all in his kingdom and in his people.
Heavens gates open wide for me because I let my spoken words on paper reveal my true heart to God the only way that I know how through this pen.
I know that I have the strength to make it through the hard times with my soul running free across pages of times.
I have the spirit of an angel ready to receive her wings and take flight throughout this crazy world and create peace where there is none.
I am not a spoken word artist I am a poet and I am able to make wishes come true with just the flick of my wrist, some ink and a sheet of paper.
