Poet Poem by Emmanuel Ayala

It seems as if you are becoming more than a poet.
Maybe I am tripping or becoming a prophet.
Having the gift to be more than a comment,
Taking the verses to the spur of the moment,

Washing, lavishing the guilt
I only realize this is more than a quilt.
You told me I am the reason you write.
There is more to this fruit that gives me a right.

Loitering patience, running naïve
Twilight and crimson light is my need.
The eternal mindset of living in a hive
Makes me only wonder of the deed,

Causing commotion setting the fame,
Setting a standard beyond the name,
White as pure as pitch black
Wanders our streets, you know what it is to lack.

Teaching, abusing the role was never a role,
Especially when we live in a hole,
Specializing, causing the world to dwell around
This is the time to look back and be found.

Learn to love the ink that marks your hand,
Only until then will you truly understand.
Writing is a gift; some find themselves but never hold back,
One day you will realize this and look back.