A writer...
One who often chooses words as if nails
and with pen like hammer
hits a thought right on the head.

Once
In an attempt
To just let go
I burred all my pain
Way down below
Below my conscience
Within my soul
Never knowing
The price in toll

Please
Take my word
Inner peace
Is made of glass
When it breaks
It can kick your ***

So now I search
A different way
To return my pain
To it's proper place
To accept my broken
To bear life's weight
To take the reins
And rejoin the race
........

From where we came
From order
From the ground
Taking each stair
Into the doorways of opportunity
The grand entrance
The arch ways
The community of faith
The dark far reaching caves into the now future and past
The warriors of war
Those who assist
The knights of templar
The humans of good will
The opening
At the mercy of the sea
Waves flowing lashing back over to me

I have nothing to say
This world is not going my way
Where I'm broken
No words can be spoken
No thoughts
No prognosis
No haircut
No shave
****!
Forgot to take a bath
Again today!

There's to much
To discuss
Within a poem
There's a lacks of trust
Unfortunately
Writing
For me
Is a must
So I share and rust!

I don't want to be unfolded in pieces like the tabs
In pop-up picture books.

I want to be a flat slate.
Open canvas
with every stroke and mistake
And run off edges to be so visible to everyone
all the time.

There will never be a time
That you will question
If you know me
For
I am bare.