I, Myself

A metaphoric poem on my writing style.

My words are the eye of the storm

Beautiful, serene

the peace and the quiet

Dangerous and deadly

My words are a hushed and lovely end to all that stand as their challenger

Step into my work and feel the power course through you

Be amazed at the intense lulling road it brings your mind down

The subtle tilt in your lips and the respectful flow of your thoughts

Gently nod your head in consent

You are tricked by a pretty turn of phrase just as quickly as the wind sweeps a leaf

Behold my destruction