i am too small to be of much good
my hands, they tremble
when weighed with the world
my misadventures lack the lessons
that make them worth-while
its a miracle that my voice rises beyond whispers
and a shock that my arms can stretch above
my head; five feet seven inches
(or however tall i am)
cannot be substantial enough
to take a stance considered powerful
my tongue drips with words but what good are they
when plagiarized from thoughts that
might be someone elses?
i dont know where i begin and influences end
so who am i to say whether or not a pen between my fingers
can do more right than wrong?
