I Am Wize

I stepped on the scene going for the gold but I still was green writing lines to read between a poet I hoped to be poetically I tried to be poetic it wasn't me I read nothing but poetry but none of it sound like me some was too bitter some was too sweet I rather take a ax to a cherry tree I wanted to learn I wanted to teach I heard enough sermons I didn't want to preach came out feet first, first born, born breach first time seeing stars raised my arm but couldn't reach the beam I dreamed of touching I had to tell the world how it feels hoping it resonate with someone who felt the same and when I did it changed my name I walked through flames caught fire set fire and burned out of control made clay out of ashes and started to mold and shape my own existence with minimum assistance me and my thoughts having a heart to heart conversation but I had yet to wake the poet sleeping soundly inside of me I spent my nights and days jotting away scribbling scratching on everything I mean everything paper cups napkins blank pages in textbooks and notebooks paper bags you name it I set out to be perfect but ended up with a pile of mess that turned out to be the best mess I ever made in my life and though I am called The Poet I am "Wize" enough to know The Poet is not I