Rhythm and rhyme always go hand and hand,

Without the two there would be no band.

Words with a purpose seem to flow from me,

Even on special days I will let others see.

The flow always seems to know where to go,

Without a poet the world would really blow.

So before you are so quick to judge my words,

Take a step back because I have heard yours.

With so many poems that I do pass by,

It seems there are too many that will make me cry.

My skin is hardened and etched in ink,

I know the sound and can hear the needle scream.

Twilight calls to the darkness before it is light,

The world is not easy as I try with my might.

I often hear the voices of my past,

I wish I could shatter them if as they were glass.

I feel all the shadows that always slip in,

I think they stop by to challenge my sins.

Inkmaster