Every morning a poet has his own breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
When I wake up to the cold morning I just have coffee and a stick of cigarette.
Smooth instrumentals in my earphones that keep my mind flowing without stopping.
My thoughts run like a marathon without to stop and take a breath keep my pen from dropping.
I already know what’s causing this addiction to keep writing, the motivation of seeing life that looked so gleaming but looks can be deceiving.
Grabbed a mop and started cleaning my act up, but the dirt and rocks made it rough to scrub!
So now I had to get down on my knees and begged for it to come off!
Trusting life and its path, roads and curves with bumps and sharp turns looked so easy to get by without crashing into life and just die without a thought in mind to send the time in rewind.
Now just thinking looks could be deceiving but let us see what life has in its sleeves
so let us cleave it up into pieces and see what it has in store for me to believe.
Yeah…. Writers block got me without knowing it was sneaking behind me.
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