This is the anniversary of my first poem --- written May 15, 1997 (051597)

Poetry.

As every word has been
written on my soul, my
scroll’s been
drenched in
blood.

I’ve whored
my thoughts, and
poured my thoughts.
In lore, my thoughts have
been entrenched in
someone’s love

(although I’ve never truly known
what love is)

They say my hands
have written songs, but
I feel that songs…
are only sung

whether ink were in the air we breathe,
or the wells were
in our lungs.

Lives are but a moment and
eventually
I’ll
wilt…
whatever words may come from me
or how my blood is spilt.

But, alas, they’re everlasting-
my words and all their dreams.
The beauty is the
silence mixed with the
passion
of our screams.

And I know you all don’t
feel my words,
so I write
for those who do.

Inspiration is
the greatest thing...
even if it's for the few.



To those who don’t enjoy my particular brand of poetry:
It’s ok… no matter how many of you there are.

And to those who have been inspired by any poem I’ve ever written:
Know that I’ve written all of them for you.

And to myself:
If you happen to be reading this many years from now, I hope to God you’re still writing and still trying to inspire those you just so happen to inspire.