446200
16
this poet is dangerous
appearing at my bedside
disguised as a shadow
shaking me like a rattle
telling me to get out of bed
for what? 3am the clock read
shivering in the cold
reaching for my robe
the sound of a 9mm unloads
somewhere down the road
on my feet can't find my shoes
the poet is smiling but I
am not amused
feeling like a puppet on a string
the music is playing
I do not feel like singing
the theme song
to this dream
as sirens hum along
the muffled screams
the beast just wants to be free
it's the black panther in me
clawing and scratching
at the pages turning words
into phrases and time
into ages
untamed and defiant
back to back
with a lion
fear is too afraid
to enter this house
