My Soul

Crimson droplets taint the floor

As I rise to unlock the door

This is my morbid metaphor

That I have used several times before

When I feel the wrenching in my chest

I write and write. I write my best

I never waver, never take a rest

If I did it would be worthless

Worth less than I know it can be

Less than my art should make people see

I am here with a message for the masses

Here to teach you what they won't in your classes

I have been 'round the block and down the street

The proof is in the scars that inhabbit my feet

Simile, rhythm, free verse, rhyme

I use these elements all the time

They are each an important peice

Of the stories that make up me