My Pen Betrays Me, Showing True Life

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just different

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Man I am this,

I been done that,

Like a mechanical autobot Transformer,

Smooth and sleek ride of Bumble Bee

Or Shaft cool and yet rough and tough

Scooping all the ladies and upholding justice

That is my mask, which is sooo tight

But when I write, all that bleeds is true life????

My mind fashions masks for me to go ahead and try out

Portraying roles of motion captured stop action

As my ego is usually the director and executive producer

Who me I’m just another underpaid over-hyped actor

But when I write my own screenplay, Love is all that comes out

Have I found my true habitat, curbing my appetite for destruction?

Maybe a commercial for true Divine inspection thru proper retrospection

When this pen moves, my life is seen differently from what I remember

Maybe my writes are espionage, from the eyes of an Informer

Cuz these here writes, speak to me in a way of lifting me high

Yet not lofty, as what has been written is just food for thought to eat

Hungry for the expression, but basking in how these writes are reflecting

Cleansing and scrubbing and rectifying layers of icing on birthday cake

Amazing at the flow, but ego wants more fluff, and info-mercials to sell

I try to force my pen to comply, but all that comes out is truth in light…