A tool for a thousand....

If you understood this notion… Why his pen signal these emotions…these tales…this world… I’ve been more than a caliber of images derived from words… But the amino to his Tylenol, Or two extra arms to break the fall, These raging bulls within his mind become my personal herds… His secretive use for me is nothing like the others… With a life consisting of spontaneous ups and downs, his imprints on me are much more subtle… The calming pen didn’t symbolize cluttered thoughts. Sense high school, when failure took its toll... success submerged as his new domain… With hard work and ambition his commitment to me remained… Even then….he knew I was more than a tool designed for pain to be released… Maybe a breathe from the heavenly…or a famous painting by the Greece... A freedom for young boys to discuss their driving fantasies… Or the explanation involving the stare derived from Mona Lisa… He knows that I comfort the homeless…abandoned minds… Or give leisure to prisoners behind enemy lines…. Feelings of exotic emotions… finding the joy in our cries… Relieving you of your trouble, sending your struggle to the skies… From the start he used me for what I was…Simply an interpretation of everything…. Used me for his own, for ten years I’ve given him life as if I’m one with the sun…. I am his Poetry….I am his voice…I am life….