Upon pieces of paper
My lines are born
With a pen my stanzas mature
I am obliged to the stanzas I write

So I rhyme every time I write just to be right
Writing is what I like
But I don’t know what is right to write
I am blessed with what is a curse

Justice must prevail in the courts of law
So I write what others are afraid to say
Broadcasting the truth not even hashtagging
On paper I sound better

With a pen I can charm you
Is this the curse I am blessed with?
I am bound to my spelling book
I have been trying to define happiness

What I fear is that those I love
Will never get to know me
Silently I cry when I look back
Seeing fights that were unnecessary
Problems that could have been temporary

I saw scars upon heartbroken
People growing and falling
I hope paradise is their final resting place
Is this my curse to see beauty in ashes
To write what no man will accept
To say what everyone will reject