Explicit Poetry IV:The Story Behind The Poetry Continues

This poetry, the same story, it's fourth time being written

But there's no need to repeat what's already been mentioned

This time, I'll let you see what's on the other side of all the social commentary

So let me take my time- No, there's need to repay what's already been given

What's written here is true to me, truly one of a kind

And with so many layers to my mind, sometimes words are hard to find

But with a thousand of them, I'll paint a picture- of me

With frontality, a view of what really matters- to me

Because in all actuality, the pattern of this world just isn't for me

Nothing here is hidden, written between the lines or behind a charismatic face

What's written here is as clear as my mental space

What's written here is written with blood, sweat and tears, and all I've lost over the years

I did the nine to five and the seven to three, working overnight and well aware that time isn't free

But I'm past the point of sacrificing sleep and ignoring my needs

I was out working all on my own hoping it all works out

But I've outgrown the mentality of the seven day work week and rethought out the meanings of what's strong and weak

A once cold heart, now thawed out, mind changed and decisions all thought out

I'm well rested, chasing the most vivid of dreams

But nightmares are dreams too, days I hope never come true

Like the day my pen runs out of ink or the night I lose synch with my roots and my speech is no longer true

This is just a party of my story- the fourth time writing this explicit poetry

I do this for me, so believe me when I say that attention is not at all what I seek

My intentions are different, the point of my passion is to help you find yours and that's something you won't find in a tweet

This poetry, exclusively my story, I hope it's understandable that this is much more than a hobby

Such a thing, much more than me venting, to put where I stand in these stanzas is not something somebody taught me

Honestly, I could use this gift to reminisce

But if I focus too much on the days I miss, I might just miss what's in front of me, and that's not very promising

Sometimes I can see that the only thing stopping me is me, and that's more than just something to relate to

But the time I spend writing out my nights instead of spending my nights out, is just one thing-

One of many, expressions from an artist, the hardest days laid out on the page is just one thing-

One of many, ways to find light in the darkest nights, ways to escape Déjà Vu

I write until there's no wrongs in my sight, and I can see the light of my hope

Until my life runs out of time, I'll write until I find the end of my rope

The hope in my heart is that I have a lot more to go

Because there's another verse to this song, but that part of the story will come at another time

I hope this read wasn't too long, hopefully the wait 'till the fifth won't be too long

Until the end of my time, this story will continue, written in this poetry

A story to tell- this is explicit poetry