My soul stained Royal Blue
Writes upon something merely white,
Torn, lost or if this flew
Not paper, but my soul will lose light.
Or if it becomes cloned by another
It is my soul that will fall,
For the one that copies is none other
Than the weakest man of all.
Or if i lose it halfway through
'The Flow' as they call it,
My soul that once grew
Will now be left unlit.
So let me transcend the best
Shakespeare, Keats and Poe,
You put them all to rest
And I will write without a foe.
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