I am no poet.

A poet... oh i am?, says I,

Perhaps it's what you think

Just mixed up words of life I cry

From someone on the brink


Mere words assembled in a row

From thoughts so few of many

labelled then a poet so,

Though none worth but a penny.



I speak as though my mind should find

My head in quite a spin,

With rhymes and verse a peace I find

That life could scarce begin.



That label sticks and holds me back

A form I have to follow,

A fear of literary attack,

Can leave my words quite hollow



So cast me not as just a poet

Sense that i am fighting,

I'm more than that and you should know it

That's why i keep writing.