superpowered was he,
person of the people,
carried a voice and the powee to lead.

see, his voice was iron fists
that cornered the lying
and hopeless rich
and richly left hope for those
who never had the strength to cope.

he was master of the pen.
leader of those wrongfully sent to the Pen.
he carried similes and metaphors on his shoulders, told his people they cannot hold us.

we have trained far too long to forget we're soldiers.

he had a dream but before that he had
to see beyond failure.
there is no such thing as failure only feedback.

he had to feed life back into the
ears that once heard and
voices that once spoke word.
see, his word became uplifting hands,
the brains that paved way for a master plan.

a master who planted back into once was desolate land.

his voice was iron fists.