If I were perfect, I wouldn’t be a poet.
—Michael Patrick
I am a voice
That will not speak in shadows.
I am a man born fully grown.
I have been labeled a madman.
I am mad. I have no set destination
Like the arrow
That knows its destiny
Before leaving the string.
Words are no longer
The color of blood.
I can appreciate the significance
Of not being dead.
Language has become my benediction.
I am a voice
As vulnerable as ribbon.