A spoken word piece: attacking your poetry with advice

Your words are meek and mild like a child telling a story through filters, straining the dictionary to find your voice with choice words already chosen.
even a child understands emotions
Never fake but raw
Tears the size of pears
Eaten by sympathy
I cannot see your words or hear your pain
Sounds muffled by verbosity
A pity
Your heart breaks but it’s the pen that aches
feeding the paper words they both know are wrong

for your sad song

A notebook filled
With words chosen by a synonym mind
To write a line you want to be original in time
Man drink that wine
Dig that pen deep in the seed of the grape
Let your heart ache.
This is your fucking stage, bleed ink red on that motherfucking page.
Open the floodgates
Gush drunk through your chest with your best
In vino veritas

the page yearns for blood.
Your trodden unpurified blood.
If I could write it for you I would but only your heart should

Never be afraid of what your heart wants to say
The sweetest truths are deep down there
Each chambers filled with letters to construct your fears.
Your fears are what the paper wants to hear
What we want read.
Let your heart take the lead.
Cut my throat with your verses
So I may never breathe.

You Feel me

28 thoughts on “A spoken word piece: attacking your poetry with advice

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