What a pen could sculpt

(poems go here) My pen sculpts a future Potential to work and to enjoy with one job My pen sculpts a dream Hope of proving my father wrong that writing is dead To dream illimitably I have the worker chisel away at the pages To embrace fully His unplanned ways bleeds my soul A dream of liberation My pen takes charge of me A book of compensability My pen blazed through the pages Am I really the one in control when this measly pen sculpts? Sure it is mine but the possession that falls far beyond my reach I still hold him like a priest would but when my pen sculpts I cannot control his demons I am not in charge My pen sculpts the world beyond Opening my thoughts My pen sculpts as if its not my own Setting me free But I write I write to disimprison the thoughts my mind creates And I speak I speak to make statements others cannot by pen and paper For I live I live to fulfill the dreams my parents have through a talent Yet I am I am American with no limitations but the ones I set myself I write because my pen says all the words I cannot