Poem #3

Sitting in a room full of poets
Watching their stories in illustration through the rhythm of their beautiful words
Staring at everyone onstage
With overflowing inspiration on my temple
Pondering on my own excellence
Art is an abstract noun and poetry is my never ending presence
When everything is wrong or even sometimes right
I open my cognitive and place my disturbances on a piece of paper
And towards the conclusion of  a pessimist’s confusion
I can only foreshadow optimism while I write
But I if I got up there I don’t know if they would really hear me
If they didn’t see my words on paper they wouldn’t really feel me
So I don’t wanna really broadcast it, maybe I’ll do it behind the scenes
Write a book or two and tell you about my nightmares and dreams
But I would’ve killed it! I would’ve shown out!
Instead I was just another face in the crowd and no one saw me stand out
I felt a cork in my throat when he said
“Who’s next”
So I decided to say nothing
Even though if I went up there I would’ve provided them with something
My art
My pain
And my peace
If I don’t get up there one day there’s no telling how many lies from the devil I would greet
Fear , scares the greatness out of me
And forbid me from wearing the crown as another queen  in poetry
This is where doubt takes you, and this aint where I wanna be
Whether it has fancy words and metaphors
I just hope you can understand the emotions I once lived for
God installed the need for blunt expression in my software
So I should program some resilience in my system and get up there
I can only shine because I share what’s mine and if my genuine rhyme doesn’t fit for your time then just that’s fine
Because when the nights unwind and I’m all in my mind I don’t want to think “why am I wasting my time?”
Not another poem will go unjustified
Not another peace of paper will fall by the wayside
My art is good enough for God’s eyes
And if you feel me, then that’s just a bonus prize



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