I am a poet
Borne with a pen on my hand.
I am a poet
With so much on my mind.
I recite poems
On the book behind my desk
Even on Christmas
I don't weak no mask
Of presence.
You might be wondering
Of i ever take or have a break,
A break is when I'm wondering
When will will be a break
For my eyes from showing me suffering.
I talk of how I rise
Because I can't count how many times I fell.
But every after sunrise
My pain fills a barrel.
K