My love for poetry transcends,

A warrior's love for his armour,

My poem adorns me like a warrior ready for battle,

The stage is my battle ground.

I am so much in love with poetry,

That my words,became my weapon of warfare,

They might seem carnal to a cadaverous mind,

But are mighty to inspire the mind of my audience.

My words are bullets fully loaded,my mouth happens to be the gun, and when my tongue pulls it’s trigger,

Even the depressed mind can not resist,

But becomes appraised and ignited with hope.

My figures of speech is my shield,

And just like the shield of faith,

My words are filled with possibilities, 

So that my audiences takes up courage.

My words are not mere words,

They are spirits and they give life.

At the breathe of my words, 

Dead dreams are resurrected.

My poetry,is my word and my voice,

The echoes of my words, carries the captivating capacity that tears down the walls of fears,timidity and inferiority.

The mind is a battle field, encompassing numerous obstacles,

And My words becomes a sword, penetrating  the mind,

Subjecting those weird thoughts of insufficiency to captivity.

I wear my words like a garment,

Like a girdle, girding my loins,

My poetry is like a warrior’s Armour,

My poetry is my word expression.

I love My poetry.

© Broma’s script ✍️