Poetry into Art
The flames 🔥 of freedom how lovely how just.
Ah my precious anarchy how you are a most.
I’am anarchy,I’am poetry, I’am art....trapped inside a cage that now feels like home.
A picture here a picture there you all can look but please don’t stare.
This isn’t another dream it’s just me thee American nightmare.
This isn’t home it’s ah prison and all of you are now my prison guards to my prison.
Day after day I feel these walls inch by inch closing in.
Even though I’m free I’m liven in shackles and it gets tougher day by day to move this ball and chain.
V is for vendetta and I live with its sins everyday.
These are my words these are my weapons that I unleash when I have nothing but words I wanna type instead of say.
We are all born free but enslaved by our choices we all born the same you and I,but I’m cut from a different cloth one not used anymore it’s out of stock, it’s discontinued the greats were made from the same cloth they like me won’t be appreciated until after I’m long gone long after I’m dead but we were still born the same you and i with choices right and wrong, good and evil, hero or villain,monster or man,saint or sinner.
What we choose marks us it marks our souls forges and fortifies our destiny.what we do with this life shows if we are still a novice or still a beginner.
All the poison ☠️ I’ve swollen and digested and now I hold it in my palms and In my hands and i’ll turn posion☠️ into art.
This right here is how I write poetry and this right here is poetry turned into Art this is just the beginning this right here is just where I start.