Death by Words

Im about to commit poetic suicide

Im gonna drive into a lake of words and die a creative death

The asphyxiation of liquid paraphrases entices me

Swamped by grammatical sea creatures;

I create a piece….

Under water….

I can’t breath….

I can’t see but I wrote a piece

The struggle resembles the erratic motion of a pen on paper; arms whaling against the resistance of the swamp

The struggles calms

My piece is complete

My creative lungs robbed of its oxygen supply; now filled with literature

My energy weakens and my body tires

The battle has ended…

Words have killed me.

Conscious Battle

I am a contradiction of the person I strive to become

I am a self hypocrite but my actions reflect my words

I am trustworthy yet unreliable

On the contrary to the above;

I am a self motivated self believer

I believe in me and my capability to become an icon

I am a living paradox

My sense of life direction has been smeared by complexes given to me by those I trusted

But I still maintain a high level of determination to beat the social stereotypes

Continue to doubt me as this drives me forward

We are people of many talents;

Yet I am still merely half the man I strive to become.