A short story of who I am
A drastic change thanks to time
A young lass with angels learning to dance
But the devils thought it's better to rhyme
Got locked in a box of words
Knowing letters as the only swords
With it fighting kings and lords
No running, only training voice chords
Words as loud as explosions
Passion hot as fire
Wasting paper after paper
Ink never ending, heart never tires
For the devils control her mind
And angels control her brain
Both fighting to win the war
And the young lass is trying to stay sane
Isn't good poetry always a letter of an inner struggle, isn't it an invisible force pulling the strings of our mind, controlling our brain to move our pens and pour down our hearts.