Monday, June 20, 2022

This Exists

I throw fire off my fingers
I spin wind around my hips
I go higher for these zingers
Well before they hit my lips
I am wired with my stinger
Do no harm but take no shit
I'm a fighter for what for what lingers
All my ancestors had wished
I'm a scryer for my singer
I have piles of manuscripts
It is dire that my king here 
Understand why this exists

No comments:

Post a Comment