Every word is broken

Every word is broken

Torn from dry leaves

Brittle pages

Never to be spoken

Light the fire

It cheapens me

To be party to

A pogrom of eradication

Written words

Need to breathe,

Without oxygen

To fan the flame

Poetry is restricted

Life becomes less than

A barren landscape

A death sentence

Without the conext

Of meaning

Every chapter

A blank sheet

A lifetime

Of misunderstanding.

Nary a story

Is written that has not been

Writ before

I scratch the itch

To route out

A fresh perspective

Winkle out

The misdirection

Burn the truth

From fallacy

Oral tradition

Is rife with corrupted

Proverbs

To furnish a narrative

More suited

To the days

Every letter

Though it may be etched

With hot blood

Is without conscience

Forming phrases

With little persuasion

Wield the pen

As an artist

Lest the picture you create

Is a caricature

Of what has gone before.