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you've been robbed I'm taking the stand
the microphone and the pen out your hand
leave you on stage all alone you forgot
your words didn't memorize your poem
you need a cheat sheet write love poems
on your arm poetry to keep you warm
its cold outside tonight standing under
moonlight I see a handprints inside my
silhouette made by something that
feels wet a fresh coat of paint
dashed and thrashed with some rain
you sing like you're in a lot of pain
so entertaining I'm just saying
thank your lucky stars you believe
in God so start praying it may be
too late the poet has escaped
out the gate I may be bound by
borders, boundaries and certain liberties
the poet resides inside of me in a
non physical spiritual society
like falling the poet is indeed free
