All wording not overly conveyed,
              I'm no dictionary.

My pen is my shield and my words
             my armour.

Sometimes dented, ridiculed,
            so not as lustrous as your

vocabulary giving,

but every symbolism
          I give in jest.

I can be a clown, watch my words prance on
              the page in fruitful

colouring of metaphor.

But other times I'm in the size seven
of another's outlook not my own,
emotion grazing my subconscious.

         For that fraction of eternity I'm them, you
I live there fears,  hopes wishes that die after I put the
                                                                ­             pen down.

Don't judge a piece of paper that has nothing on it,
           for will have a doodle, a thought..

A drawing of emotion entwined within its fabric.

   But you just ridicule, turn the page not knowing
                     the pain or joyful happiness
that went to create this...

Yes its not in your taste, but its there's, mine.

Were just artists of our own little world,
             and if you happen to land here.

Please be green..


   Recycle what you think,
and be positive,
    really do reflect on what others foresee.