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
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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