I wouldn’t color, I never drew,
The art of words was what I knew

There’s a special place where my refuge lies
And ideas float around me like butterflies.

That place isn’t college, but I’m afraid that’s where I’ll be
To finally learn correct comma placement at some university

Maybe I won’t start out with a bestseller in hand
But God forbid I write for a newspaper stand

However, there are more dreams I’d like to keep intact
For instance, tied for first is my love to act.

But I am the ink, my life a book
Writing away about the chances I took.

About the battles I’ve lost, the dark places I’ve traveled
The near mental break when my life unraveled.

The passion flows in me, rip-roaring through each vein
Like a 47th chromosome of DNA

When I venture off to the world of my imagination
I’m like a perpetual daydream, a constant hallucinate.

It’s something weird and unnatural for the people of today
To always be stuck in my head, but I like it that way.