Sitting here
in my cardboard abode
I found it to be laborious
and a hassle
to find my joys hidden
in forbidden code

I've made my peace
with being this castles rascal

------------------------------------------------------------

T­he bile tongued prince
sat upon his minced words
trying to dismiss the news
that he had heard
But the taunting is ever present
To think that all this haunting
was brought on by the peasants

The advisor was all the wiser
for remaining silent
He'd learned his words
are sometimes better unspent
Letting youth flap carelessly
like the sigil above the hall
With a clap and a tap
the prince barks to answer the call

He seemed hesitant
as any should be in this time
He bluffed confidence
as he declared the act a crime  

So pick up arms
This burden befalls on all
who can woo
No telling by the yelling
on how many sons
mothers went through
Red and black
a snake like tide
walked and waved
as it passed through the gate
A shimmering glide
the baking sun glinted
off every single armor plate
Acting accountant
for how many would be lost
The sun an abacus
showing what it would cost    

To war

Call it cringe
call it bad
call it great
or whatever you want
Hell, rip pages out
and make your notes
mail me my own poems
back with critiques for all I care
Just know that I don't care; about subject
punctuation
spelling or any of it
Because I swear
on all that I hold dear
if I have to hear
"that's not a real word"
one more ******* time
I'll lose my ******* mind

Oh they're going to find out, how can they not
Without a singular doubt, I'm going to get caught
I even suspect a friend, who maybe thinks I'm sick
because I've lost the path of God. Oh it’s her, isn't it?
There's something greater at stake as well
not just missing out on the praise
But there's so much in name
it’s your well of glory
Will I regret it in the coming days
Is it worth it?
Does it add or take from the story?

Where’s the proof
where’s the undeniable proof
that I'm here and that it's all worth it?
What I am going to talk about
What rhyme will I remember
Do I really want to **** half of them this December?

Who do I brag to?
How much is it going to hurt?
If your friends and family don't know
Did you even do it?

I am
theatre bred
I am
poet born
I will not tread lightly
I will blow my horn
I will make practice
of practice
Till every act is
that of mastery
I will steal history
for so long
that it will linger upon
me. For centuries