Not A Prophet

Things pour from my heart
Not always right in the eyes of all
But in the moment
At the time
I write with blinders on
Fevered pitch
Word like a typhoon crash upon the page
A mass murderer releasing his rage
Emptying every emotion
Draining my energy
Leaving no stone unturned
From my mind into written word
My voice screaming in this medium
Shouting instantly around the world
In this cosmic age gone are the paper pages
What was once only mine
Boxed and locked away
Now unleashed for the world to see
Not perfect
Not a prophet
I just write it
Your choice
Ignore or consume it…


3 thoughts on “Not A Prophet

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