spite

Spite

You went to all this effort to show you who you are,

We bow down and worship you, like the ancients do the stars.

Being a writer is often competing

But often competition is best kept to yourself.

No matter purpose be it money or greed,

we pay out our spiritual wealth.

Do we hurt or do we help?



The governing power grows with worries and woes that this “spirit” cannot be controlled.

The rioters take to the street believing they are meek and that very tragically unfolds.

The people believe it is the writers so rambunctious in their nature.

They surmise we’re with the rioters abandoning our pen and paper.

Because I hide behind a name instead of a hood, suddenly I’m part of this caper.



But we and they like night and day.

Choose expression in two ways.

The pen is mightier than the sword.

The sun writes upon our eyes with its rays.

Please ignore these comments for god knows where they came.

Muzzled seething spite and blinded by rage.

I sit with my pen and paper not in a cell but in a cage.

I pay out my spiritual wealth.

The sun blinds me with its rays.