Okay! I might not be good writing poetry
And I’m not be good at spelling and grammar.
Maybe this old hound is barking up the wrong tree?
But who’s going to judge me with a little wooden hammer?
I like to express myself in my personal own way,
to escape the thunderstorm, in inside my chest.
To others it’s a sculptors art-form, to others it’s words that we can play.
To me it is a freedom to speak, for what I want and not, I’ll not rest.
Freedom tell YOU I’m alive! I can feel! I can listen to you...
I cannot verbally speak or walk, but I can still have dreams.
These certain words I hope make your own mind chew.
Communication is universal, but you all are stuck in one key it seems.
Nobody will take the time or patience to be on my frequency!
You just patronise me or don’t give a damn
I don’t care you staring and carry on the indecency
You are too stupidly ignorant to know who I am!