As I sit here read through the words of poetess
Let me confess and condense all the stress caught on my chest
To express my piece of the contest
That I have unspoken words in unprofessed
So let me share my poetry
So that I can express myself freely
To wake up of my Dreams and rise for the reality
Substantiate people with what I have inside and outside of me
See I am fayzah showsta in case you never knew
I inference I am poetry prose just like the others
I don’t judge by any other or there color
Just a poet who comprehends and scrutinize the lines of rhyme
Finally it feels like I came out of my skin and I deem like I bleed lie
Cry out for a try and yet hide
I sometimes get sick and tired of rhymes
Makes me think is a waste of time trying
Gets me mad when I don’t understand the lines
I don’t know it just gets me the rile
It is hard to just press on subject matter with utter
When actually the bard engrave a line which has no texture
Do I really sit with pen, book and I just conjecture?
Every time I try to express spit on put my name down for
I get stuck, impedes the accepted wisdom
But here I am trying to answer 1 question
Am I a really flowing it?.. Drivel? Or a good poetition?
Fayzah Muhammad Showsta
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