My poems don't always rhyme cause I don't have the time, is that such a crime?
When the words flow through my mind I can’t find a way to slow them down.
They rush along before I can say hush and put pen to paper, it's like squeezing a lime;
It’s slow and gets in your eye, makes you wanna cry and look like a clown
The result is a bitter pill to swallow but I ain’t quitter so I’ll will myself not to wallow or whine,
Complain or waver, push myself to be braver and for my face not to frown.
Because one day soon I know it'll be my turn and like shooting star I'll shine,
And on that day maybe I'll be happier because people will say I'm good enough and give me a golden crown
When the words flow through my mind I can’t find a way to slow them down.
They rush along before I can say hush and put pen to paper, it's like squeezing a lime;
It’s slow and gets in your eye, makes you wanna cry and look like a clown
The result is a bitter pill to swallow but I ain’t quitter so I’ll will myself not to wallow or whine,
Complain or waver, push myself to be braver and for my face not to frown.
Because one day soon I know it'll be my turn and like shooting star I'll shine,
And on that day maybe I'll be happier because people will say I'm good enough and give me a golden crown
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