I come from a tribe,
where our pens swiftly dance
and our hands don't murmur,
when we put our hearts in words and texts.
In the dynasty where I belong,
we prefer using our pen as a microphone,
our sheets as our voice,
crying and calling on change,
for the revolution of our generation.
In the kingdom where I belong,
though we are despised,
and our voices are sometimes shut by the listeners,
though we are termed "liars", "good for nothing."
We don't give up on our passion, writing is our fashion,
as we can modify it to our preferred version,
we hope with our pen, we build a hopeful mansion.
We are poets, curled up in our own thoughts and notes,
married to our microphone,
and focused on making the world better.
Thank you for your time.
My pen doesn't bleed, it speaks, with speed and ease.
Still me,
My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.
Olawalium; (Love's chemical content, in human form). Take a dose today: doctor's order