teach me; to lie to my pen

Every time I put pen to paper

My soul gets lifted, I’m lighter

I place my weight on my right hand

And scribble out my form of art

It is seldom appealing

But plenty revealing

It’s my vent canal

My thought processor

My seventh sense

I know each time it comes from within

Within some confines of my heart

It is my truest of expressions

Burning my gut with strong passion

Every time I put pen to paper

I speak the truth

Of the truth

And address those feelings at the core

For no matter how hard i try

I can never tell my pen a lie

I can go above

Below

And around the truth

I can coat it in idioms

Drown it in prose

I can intoxicate it in imagery

And get it to think it cannot be

I can convince the truth it was a lie

And it would believe me

Yet when I sit with pen

And introduce it to paper

The truth exacts revenge

It arrests the control of mind

And dictates the tempo of heart

Free flowing ideas

Hand glides and curves

And the eyes dart over each syllable

Sounding out the consonants

Miming the vowels

Giving rise to verses

I am a vessel

I convey the message

And despite my frequent attempts

I can never change the outcome

I simply cannot lie to my pen

Teach me

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