We Should Recognize

Not going to write
In rage
Stain my pages,
Go on a useless crusade
Try centering self
In the middle of progressive stages;
All to real to turn into an act
Thinking time and time
How to word one's obituary feel
As if it's from the dead im coming back.
I hate, though I hate the word
Printing every day
And still seeing no change,
So who's the one
To criticize self
But when we draw away to feel better
Usually, pointing judgment on....someone else.
What was it?
That drove you in the beginning
Fingers gripping truth, hands possessed for the minutes,
Sound
s of your print sounded good
To you, the potential was there
When we naive start off strong
Getting out there mixing in a pond
Thought to be a river of big fish
When it's just a creek full of passionate you
Flowing all around coming and going
In the connections to the grand oceans.
We want all those things
To be loved and all the above,
But the best thing to me
Is having ears for written words
And having a tongue to respect others,
We are masters of our destinies
Not of the mastery of scribed language;
Staying true to what drives me
Is the purpose of voice
Striving to stay strong amongst
My respected sisters and brothers.