If by this pen I yield thy sword and shield, for my defense I may offend, to presume any pretense would be your gravely wound, within my tone the pain flows deep from within my bones, to release the words are not to appease but to bring forth the gravity of need, my tongue I will not bend, my thoughts I will not cloak, my words I will not coat, for if my rhymes of despair and mire taint your mind, it is no issue of mine, I hold no tongue of anyone, and if you think you shall slap upon mine, you are not a friend of mine, for this world is droll and bleak, not every step is the same for you nor for me, when one can reach the other may only be able to scream, but to assume your sharpness is a blade to me, you clearly are blind to the fact I no longer bleed;

If for thought would come to mind, would comprehension be had, upon my mind I lay out words, for the exhaustive practice finds no place, bare laid out my mind for all, saddled with desperation and pain, I fight the urge to be silent in hopes I may be heard, for all that see fail to have seen the blood that flows across these hindered walls, the windows I provide for all to peer within, void of prints of those who dare, hours, days weeks and months, year to year my heart does cry, upon my words my plight refuses to die, if in time you took the stroll, you may realize my words are not so droll, for it may take sometime, but below these words of mine, are a story of refusing to give up, if only you could take the time to read each and every post of mine, you may see the gravity of my need, to feel my pain, to see my hunger, to understand the weight Im forced to bear;