Walking through thorns,
Swimming through storms.
My emotions spring to life on paper.
My inner being gives the essence.
Sometimes the sun brings no inspiration;
For It sends rays of distraction.
Sometimes the moon shines with no motivation;
Leaving me in the mud to embrace my ruins.
But I grew above those limitations,
Showing I needed not the sun
Nor the moon
My mind was always the cue.
Dangerously decorated like the Pandora’s box;
My mind was a Haven to behold.
I never went to battle with guns or bombs.
Instead I used my quill as i willed.
With the blood of my foes I inked,
Dispersing verdicts atop my hill.
“So what happens when there are no enemies to kill?”
“When there is no blood to spill?”
My quill I shall drop.
In reverence i would pick my Pen,
Brandishing it like a sword,
I would Tear down strongholds of ignorance
And mockers shall meet their demise.