My Art

· My Art,
  Is where other people
  Burn down cars

· My Pen is the anger,
  That they save to overspend for
  A rainy day

· My Words,
  Are a cross between graffitied walls
  And a drunken slob’s sobered-up thoughts

· My Poetry,
  Is not picking daisies
  On a warm summer’s day with
  My love:

It’s a creation.

Where others create
A scene at the club.

My imagination
Runs wild and free
For me to capture,cage and make breed
With my speech,
For the offspring
To then be released

And in this natural habitat be seen
By all the world

· It’s My Art
  And it will do
  What it feels

  It's actually
  Not up to me