I want to hear your story

Trip, step… flip, each vowel. Assassinating situations seemingly all around — resounding. Crystal clear creeps on — cilantro silences your intro. Verse aligned — all variants — valued for each of their consonants.

Illiterate is the name of the game, each consonant rhythmically displayed, a rhyme, one at time, play the quatrain right, you’ll be fine.

Each technique can be stuttering, or verbose. Staccato dreams flowing gently - each wave it’s own, the tide composed. Now juxtapose — the heartfelt plenty binds all which flows… make that your own prose.

That’s how personality on paper flows, and God knows, you’ll be one of those who can be proud to say — I was the soul who wrote those.

Never let go of that story you told, recalled straight from the depths of soul - your soul - each word your own and yours alone…

Welcome home my friend… Welcome home.