5:27 AM
SpiritualMind
The imperfections I hold in me can be seen anytime physically.
Look to my flesh to get a glimpse of what I’ve been tested with.
Look in my soul to know where I've gone when away from home.
Mistakes came with me as I experienced this life in unknown territory.
Inside my chest beats the heart of a man poetically inclined mentally.
Creation was my key to survive with my soul alive within the passage of time.
To escape the confines of an early grave dead with my body still alive.
I had to breathe with my ink in order for me to never become extinct.
The evidence of my entirety can be witnessed entirely poetically.
My perfection is keen as my ink strategically spills on white sheets.
With no typos to be seen; I can label myself perfectly incomplete.
My story can never be publicized until my hands cease to write poetry.
Still I stumble in the streets like an officer on his beat so I know this world
Has something new to teach me; Pain lets you know you're not yet deceased.
Nothing I hold is perfect or complete but they are my testimonies to keep moving.
The imperfections I hold on my flesh are medal I possess in my inner soul.
Perfectly flawed by the scars; not the money the women or all the cars.
Poetically I drop bars greater in value than an abstract work of Art.
Imperfections I know, Imperfections I hold; both are molded to my soul.
Both labels to the DNA that makes up who/what I am in the physical.
I wear my flaws like a badge of honor; I'm a soldier & this war isn't over
Nick Ade The Poet © 2014
Fan-Page - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Nick-Ade-The-Poet/101919796532103
Look to my flesh to get a glimpse of what I’ve been tested with.
Look in my soul to know where I've gone when away from home.
Mistakes came with me as I experienced this life in unknown territory.
Inside my chest beats the heart of a man poetically inclined mentally.
Creation was my key to survive with my soul alive within the passage of time.
To escape the confines of an early grave dead with my body still alive.
I had to breathe with my ink in order for me to never become extinct.
The evidence of my entirety can be witnessed entirely poetically.
My perfection is keen as my ink strategically spills on white sheets.
With no typos to be seen; I can label myself perfectly incomplete.
My story can never be publicized until my hands cease to write poetry.
Still I stumble in the streets like an officer on his beat so I know this world
Has something new to teach me; Pain lets you know you're not yet deceased.
Nothing I hold is perfect or complete but they are my testimonies to keep moving.
The imperfections I hold on my flesh are medal I possess in my inner soul.
Perfectly flawed by the scars; not the money the women or all the cars.
Poetically I drop bars greater in value than an abstract work of Art.
Imperfections I know, Imperfections I hold; both are molded to my soul.
Both labels to the DNA that makes up who/what I am in the physical.
I wear my flaws like a badge of honor; I'm a soldier & this war isn't over
Nick Ade The Poet © 2014
Fan-Page - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Nick-Ade-The-Poet/101919796532103
