When I speak of War, I am a Tyrant
I interrupt others and shout in the street.
My brain conserves what my body wants free.
How can I be of two separate meanings?
I say I speak the Truth and yet I Lie?
For once it is established it Migrates.
It surrounds me or peaks around corners.
An entirely different person.
A shy and meek teacher goes to protests?
A reclusive writer a penchant
My Verses are the Sources of their Poems.
While they move from left to right I return.
IF I don't travel Left there's no Sonnet
This makes as much sense to me as a Gun
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