Living life in a world that offers nothing but its pain and despair
I try my best to keep my saneness in a world that won’t care
My sky is green, my grass is blue, and I don’t know what to do
I look to God for my answer as to how to make it through 
I want to turn to my peers but instead I’m shedding tears
My fears are unclear and it’s been happening for years
Through spoken word I’m lacking and verbally I keep slacking
I have to express my actions some way and some how
That’s why I have to grab my pad and a writing utensil 
and start writing down words that become sentimental
Not detrimental to releasing emotions 
and releasing this guilt without starting commotions
And expelling this anger that has me living in danger
I’m in a state of depression and have a lesson to learn
Regardless of how bad I’m feeling
I know that my pen and my paper will listen

With my pen and my paper I try my best to escape 
The consequences of my actions and my predetermined fate
I can speak without ever having been spoken to
My words.  My life.  My thoughts.
I’m a writer

Writing down my surroundings that have me grounded, confounded
I look around I’m dumbfounded at what I see
Animosity, poverty, crime is a monstrosity
Reaching a high velocity and wondering what to do
My eyes, my ears, and my mind take it all in
So I take my pen and write from my perspective
Not being selective my words are contraceptives
Preventing the hater’s disease from killing me softly
Telling all doubters they had better get off me
Warning them a poetic mind’s in the vicinity
God grant me serenity to be just who I want to be
Not afraid to show my individuality
Not much for speaking words, but I’m known for writing them
Through poems, songs, letters, et cetera 
Regardless of how bad I’m feeling
I know that my pen and my paper will listen

With my pen and my paper I try my best to escape 
The consequences of my actions and my predetermined fate
I can speak without ever having been spoken to
My words.  My life.  My thoughts.

I’m a writer.