—I am not a poet!

'Cause I write poetry.

I never asked for words;

These words have asked for me;

And I reject the offer—

Time and time again,

But they always find a way,

To the ink inside my pen.

So here I am now,

Kneeling as I pray,

For the gracious God above,

To take these words away:

"They've given me nothing!

But heartache and pain,

And I can no longer

Withstand the rain.

For every drip and every drop,

Creates new words; creates new thoughts,

In my head, and leads me on

A cunning path, straight to naught.

—Take them...away!

I hear the crack of thunder;

The ground beneath me shakes;

My tears whoosh in the wind;

For I see no escape.

The last tear splashes off the floor—

And I?

Dry my eyes and write some more.