Bowls used for food became a toilet food left out for "the spirits" became a meal for mice .
Whike stained teeth from years of smoking cigars, drinking coffee and "fire water" for breakfast crawled my blood.
Not to mention the evolving nats or fruit flies that attacked me every chance they got.
When I closed my eyes for slumber, my dreams were often my pastvin nightmeres ,relived in my inception.
Escaping became a major plan .
Taking the road for my aspirations became goals with my many talents with success but they will not be fullfilled here but elsewhere....
YOU ARE READING
My Tongue Is A Pen Of A Ready Writer
PuisiHere are a collection of poetry I have written within my teenage years, early adult life . I hope you all enjoy.
