They say I’m a poet, I just don’t show it.  But if they knew the real me, They’d know this Is far from the reality.

See, I’m actually  But a self-historian writing  About my pain and the health of my mental sanity.

So where you see talent,  Is simply leveraging my past into action, As I take a piece of baggage  Off one of an infinite amount of pallets.

And describe what I’ve felt Date by date, To create these characters with characters  Using hands that momentarily levitate Off the keys or off the page to demonstrate, I’m only a person who keeps tripping over his feet in this human race.