"you’re a poet, and you didn’t know it" - but in fact, I really did.
I've been writing peculiar rhymes since I was a little kid.
In fact - YOU didn’t know it, because I was hesitant to share.
Self-conscious about this claim - I figured, who would really care?
To be taken seriously, or seriously be taken,
Ask your soul this question, see creativity awaken.
For its been taken away, from right under your nose,
"Achieve your adult maturity!" - that’s how the stories goes.
It's what happens when we assess the 'right' from the 'wrong'.
We catch ourselves speaking sentences, as opposed to singing song.
"Oh but he has no etiquette", I say "where was the poetry start-up kit?"
Last time I checked, I speak from the heart, so where is it that other writers start?
I know not but who, when or why, I put my pen to paper, words multiply.
They flow like this dam ripped open by the storm, I have to ask myself, is this the norm?
Like a sleeper cell, I've been trapped in a cell, of a prison called 'Fear and Judgement'.
For years I've been dormant, like a doormat, commonly used but rarely seen.
Unappreciated, undervalued, under the very feet in which you walk.
Worthy of no praise, 'twas a needed phase, to observe and to gaze, simply wander life's maze.
Like a frog on a log, or headlights piercing fog, no hours did I log - my gears turning no cog.
But here I am now world, this proclamation is a must.
My name is Dan, I am a poet, and in spoken word, I trust.