Some consider this art
Some poetry
Music
A gift
Me?
Simply saw it as a sword to battle boredom with
And It still is…
Except, I will admit
After I felt the balls rolling on the quill-tip spillages
In instances of thrilling kids..
I constantly consciously created/constructed
Less swill-fit more tips, pen points… out advice
That might uplift!
I insisted instilling brilliance in this with willingness
Like studious physicists, philosophers, lyricists
Linguistics whizzes with ridiculous twists of
Syllables, words synonyms, verbs
Consonants, vowels, adjectives, nouns
Vocab, antonyms, symbols
Syntax to aid my adamant,
Invention intention's impact to
Decrease foggy, sense presentation presence
Attention!
Increase phosphorescence essences essentially
Eventually so significance will immediately
Be retrieved, they’ll find quilt prints
In your head splits
After you read this
Thanks to my skilled spits
No more stillness in your pondering:
The ripples filled and fulfilled it
So no ill-will will bill me still
And make me shrill
If I feel which
Is an issue if/when
They WILL flip
That kill switch
On my pilgrimage
I won't guilt-trip
Into chilled abyss
And still stress
About the still prints
And beneficial scripts
In my cryptic crypt crib on
Memory lane and how
Vain plain or arcane I’d built it
Some consider this art
Some poetry, music, a gift...
Me? I simply saw it as a sword to battle boredom with, and it still is..

But now it's also an attempted wordsmith weapon
Of wisdom to contribute worth before I withered
And leave something with them