As I sit here writing I contemplate the right thing I express the truth form my heart I sing Yet you write poetry with grammar infront of meaning Whereas I write the meaning without judging the proceeding Without grammar holding me back I am flexible to attract So you attack trying to make sense of what I lack I am not judging a single statement I let out For who am I to judge what the world is about You see you cannot get past my emotional shield As I will write with a new style not to appeal And I understand it does not make sense to the book worms You are already held down by your reliable terms So judge judge judge and judge some more But you look like dirt on my front door You cannot give a conclusion of what I have achieved At seventeen I believe I have much to conceive