Misdirected Ways Of The Unwritten Word. Poem by Michael Gale

I write....
Only because, I'm right.

I'm right to write...
I'm, at times, very out of sight.

My brain, sometimes write on a very slanted track derailed...
My train brain is sometimes drained like a vacuumed swimming pool hall of the misgambled, erring hands down the alley's lane.

It is very hard for me to explain...
I am average looking, and very plain.

I am a plane that flies off the handle with care...
I like to boggle your mind, or stare.

I don't care where i am at, or there...
To you, I really do swear.

I swear many foul words, redirected at any unfortunate bystanders...
I live in the lowlands and not the highlanders.

I crash and burn...
I'm poor and never earn, or learn.

Mistakes often happen...
I get lost because i am bad with directions, while always mismappen' rappin', that does happen.