Force of a Poet

I am a force to be reckoned with

a ferocious roar that echoes in every corner

wielding your state of mind to craft

to give birth to

to breath life into

vivacious, effervescent, illustrious

words

like dews hanging on a branch that stretches to intensify

though I creak I hold and roughen my timber

stains of awareness flower along my fingers

should you cut me

a sap so pure, so sincere

inky and potent will drip onto a canvas creating a modern day portrait

a reflection

a clairvoyant

mirroring without special effects or dreamy sequences to tone down

temper with

the truth

with a steady grip to this pen my ink stained hands will not rest, will not falter, will not fear the scorn as I let what is inside me spill, although at times the weight of the despair at which I am coming to know troubles me, I understand that this medium of mine, this beloved is my way of seeing

you will not disregard me

you will not avoid me

burying your head under the rubble of wishful thinking

acting as if the antidote to everything is a dash of pity

your excuse for a solution is a heated discussion

swapping of conspiracy theories

overplay the card of ‘mankind is a hopeless race’

end with a smug expression without a hint of an answer in place

I stand here to remind you

let my language incite you

I am a force to be reckoned with

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