Street Corner: I the Poet and She the Violinist

I await alone on a street corner holding up a sign that reads:

"I AM PRICELESS" but spoke a few lines.

Seeking souls condemned by man but loved by God.

She stops, listened and applauded... TRUTH.

Stood next to me and told me a story threw her violin.

Exchanged pains, I the poet and her the violinist.

Intermingling souls wrapped around each others notes.

Intrigued by phases, inked on pages.

Rearrange sign, reads:

WE ARE EMANCIPATED

From mental slavery.

WE ARE CHANGE

November 4th

WE ARE

As I was... As I am but now with completion.

Deliverance, of the soul I once sort out to

Sync.

Unlike Truth, most woman find happiness in Minx's.

I rather fall in love with a woman who can THINK.

Intellectuals finding self, while "man" is quick to hate.

Debating, clear conversation on my topics of

the once scorned.

Tell my present back to the day I was born.

Listening, not judging, acceptance of flaws.

Shhh, She's about to tell me her secrets and all.

I the poet and she the Violinist on this street corner.