Pen to paper
Poetry comes forth
Ideas as weird as if south’s become north
You with me still? Or have I lost you?
Can’t wait for you to catch up, I write how I’m supposed to
As unnerving as black, as relaxing as sky blue
Those are just but two things these words can do
I don’t see myself as a poet
I’m more of a wordsmith
I’m crazy, we all know it, but don’t you just love how my words split
The page into two, or three… or four?
Or more?
You’re in my mind, enjoy your tour
I’m rarely sure
Of what I’m going to write about
But I’m always assured, deep down I know
I will write it out.