A distant regret lead me to lead.
Blunt pencils and no sharpener
couldn’t stop a mind that was sharp enough
to never blame Pythagoras.
The system is a cage,
but in it…
homie made a name.
Touchè.
Tag Archives: Poetry
Reflecting
Trying to be me, not my reflection.
Touch
In my bed,
Forcing this pen.
Sublime rhymes don’t come like I would like,
but tonight;
They kind’ve must.
Eye lids almost closed,
Prose flirting around in my mind,
Words trying to find rhythm and rhymes…
Thumb just tapping in obedience.
Banging holes in this touch screen,
Just so you can feel me…
Lose touch.
MEL(L)O(W)DIC™ 