My Words, My Way

A brand new type of music, are the words from my mind.
Follow them closely, leave no syllable behind.

The beat is one to which I dance.
Like a ballerina, I twirl, I prance.

It sounds so good, maybe only to me.
A girl in her groove, it seems to be.

Doing my thing, or my thing will do me.
Writing and singing sets this soul free.

Free from destruction, I am in total bliss.
My words in your mouth, lips I must kiss.

An artists muse derived from inspiration.
A mess, you say, is this creation.

It sounds so well rolling off of my tongue.
Many more words, the night is young.

No sleep till emptiness finds a way to my thoughts.
Ricocheted inside ringing a million shots.

None fatal, all bearing a verse.
This hobby of mine can be a curse.

When my eyes shut I see nothing but scribbled lines.
Like a window without curtains, you see through the blinds.

My mind is open, consistently talking.
A silent haven, in which I'm stalking.

I'm not a master of this art, this art is my master.
Scattered and confusing....my thoughtful disaster.

My mind is a battle field, I forever fight.
When the hell can I turn out the light?

Like crystal meth, I've enlightened your senses.
With broken grammar I tear down your fences.

Sing along with me, my tone is not deaf.
First let me sleep, my mind needs a breath..