The End Poem by Little King of Sorrows

I am a muse.
The passion I show it.
My highs and my lows,
Some call me a poet.
A rhymer of feelings,
since a very young age,
My soul was sent flying,
While locked in a cage.
One-liners guiding,
the way that I walk,
No expectations,
Just writing my talk.
The drum that is beating,
I stroll to a tune,
Inside of my head,
A singing baboon.
Don't be offended,
Offended don't be,
It's just my perspective,
The perspective of me.
It don't make it right,
it don't make it true,
I let it misguide me,
But healed from it too.
Like a peace pipe of natives,
words drifting like smoke,
stinging my eyes,
I continued to toke.
Ashes surround me,
as the air finally cleared,
if I see this correctly,
it's just as I feared.
But the fear is past tense,
It's really okay,
like a child I was asking,
' Can you come out and play? '
The answer was distant,
I heard what you chose,
'Can you please go away now? '
I replied, ' I suppose'.
Wishing the best,
to you and your friends,
The writing continues,
But our story ends.
I still need some practice,
I continue to try,
seeking a soul-mate,
I'll sing to the sky.
My life now a canvas,
as pure as the snow,
what shall be painted,
Only my teacher does know.
Every new beginning,
forms from an end,
no reason to hate it,
I Thank you old friend.

© 2013 L.K.Sorrows