Art is war,
Something I fought for
Things I couldn't save I couldn't love
I wrote them into darkness to be engulfed
Don't challenge a poet-
We have collected words from gardens of disdain
You'll either become a muse or a grief stricken tale
Kings maybe superior but I journeyed with no maps, still created armours of ink and paths of verses I have paved
The pain in my lungs, the air I can't breath in
A poison too intoxicating, the venom in my veins
Dreamt of heavenly fairies got humans instead
God said love your enemy, so I loved myself
Spare personalities decked up on my bed
Which to wear, the question lingers again
Followed the moonlight ended in a harem
Struck by beauty, too sinful to get
Art is war, they say
I confront my enemy,
Melodies are long lost and maybe so am I
I like it this way, where I don't have to abide
Ignore my nuisance it's just a phase
The moon takes thirty days but I'm left with blades
I carve myself into marble
Talk of my pride and scandals
I hope they remember-
Me,
Maybe as history maybe as it's creator