Poems and stuff

write

what is right? the feeling of restriction

no depiction of your feeling 

no prescription of one's feeling

yet you write to prescribe yourself of feeling

like you're dealing with one feeling that cant be crammed in

but they say its wrong, no easy right

but write you playwright 

you say its right as long as there's light to write

as you long for some sympathetic rites

you fight your plights as you write

but cut your outer layers with words

and still you write because you're right

your heart rate cant alight as you spit the words

with pen and paper downright

staining your stainless steel heart with graphite 

the moonlight is still shining yet you write your deliverance

under starlight, affright the sunlight will bite

your already dark toned sight

and so, must you continue to write?

does it help to feel right or to satisfy the ones that think of your unknown rights

in spite of your extinct authority in your own finite life

still you write like they'll read the apology you've marked yourself

some unwanted sorry of an issue thats out of power

like everything you ever do will ever be right

yet you write in some hope that everything will be alright

but its okay, there's no dismay, like no feelings have scattered so far array!

its all okay until someday you write and fight for no victory day