Just a poet

I’m barely a man—just a poet with a pen in his hand. My mind doesn’t understand the pain, so I draw from ink like blood from a vein.

I chose the wrong lane. I need my health to change… I need these words to provide direction, but my soul remains in chains.

I’m locked in a cage, trapped by rage. I wish I could erase the past. When you look into my eyes, it’s like looking through a glass—you can see I’m fighting a battle.

When life makes you an opponent, it doesn’t send an invitation. I won’t be wearing a belt—I’m not a champion. I’m an unwilling companion, handing over his resignation.

Matt Brown | Evolving Poet