thirty.

Hello there fellow writer, my pen deviates from the barrier of the line, but my rhyme however ticks with the time. My words, why yes they dance across the page, as my plethora of language increases with my age. My fingers snap to that sweet hip hop groove, as my heart beats with the bass line so smooth. But the separated edge of the paper cuts into my brain, roaring like a lion, soaring like an eagle who's been tamed. The turntable scratches deep ridges down into my spine, with your headset pressed against your ear and your mind. A steady bass beat thumps in my blood vessel oh so great, while using your lyrics to attract me, its like musical bait. My body acts with style, mouth with words, as my letters invade this paper, stomping out the herds. My poem is about my lust, that pleasant red hue, as well as your magnificent magic too. So wont you stray your box of records, single be, only so you will join the writer that is me.

Boy you've got me spinning, you've got me in a twirl;