When you told me to stop writing

Did you know you were asking me to stop breathing as well?


It was like you were ripping out my veins

Draining me of blood

And removing my oxygen all at once?


If you take my pen and paper

I am no longer the poet in the streets

I am no longer an artist

Or a soul


I turn into one of you


It is something in which I do not wish to be

You are an ordinary human being

But I am a poet, a writer, a new soul


You can not take away my pen and paper

And expect me to keep on living

That pen and paper is my life


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s