Call me a Wordsmith

these words like the bullets, this pencil my gun
the parchment like pavement when its time to run

people say that I’m smart, but I mostly feel dumb
everyone hates me all I can say is red rum

im just a wordsmith, i make words work for me
i can turn night into day even if you dont agree

i can turn water to wine, but i cant walk on it
but i can turn heavan to hell with just a little bit

these hands like the battlefield worn with time
these muscles full measure writing out rhymes

thoughts like pounding raindrops fall onto this page
dancing in splendor like a vicious fire sage

vicarious visions with lackluster dreams
protruding out like heavenly beams

there she stands in full form fashion
reaching out to me and touching my passion

ill leave it here this wordsmith is done
but just know that with her it has ONLY begun