I was told

not to write 

Without pay

As if coin

Was the only currency 

I have to deal with

As if my power is limited

As if I scour for my lines

And rhymes each time

I sit to write to read

The bones 

Clattering inside me

As if I don’t write 

For me

For those who bleed

Like me

Who hurt chronically

Who neurotically

Self medicate

With narcotics 

And loving memories

I don’t write for free

No one has to pay me

To pay my dues

I do freely

Write to free me

And others being

Frantically living

– B. Brown 
(Time clock freestyle haha five minutes before the work day begins. Rise and grind. Good morning.)