Pick up my pen to add some blood to all these pristine pages,
So, hopefully, they can see what’s in me through distant ages!
Control the flow; I don’t just splatter gore; I gather phrases,
That speaks through pumping chambers, heartfelt bars that detail changes,
Occurring in my veins, it’s strange to feel the changes forming,
Into a pattern fashioned after what comes in the morning!
Not always Joyful, but I know His Favor is adorning,
My lines with Fire, so my prior ire is your warning!
I might not write what you expect from me, my Destiny,
Lies in my drive and the complexity of chemistry,
That’s flowing through my veins, but preferably the weaponry,
Of zealous felons sees a helping hand from Heavenly,
Sustaining angels, or the Hand of God’s Direct Perception,
Cause what I’m writing is intended to detect deception,
That’s why it’s vital to provide only correct reflections,
Like I’m the moon, I will project the Light of my Election!
By: Christopher Louis Reid