Earned the callus from the callous

Learned from the course that’s coarse

To be discreet and discrete

To disregard society’s sealings upon ceilings

An idle idol is sunken in an inn

So, never mind rolling with roles

I’d rather say, “Good mornin” to those prepared for mourning

I’d rather speak a scene that’s rarely seen or never been seen

My sighs increase in size

As I treat the stares like stairs

I reek when I wreak my write, right

Wring when I ring

Never leaving prints upon a prince

Heavy weighed as I wade with intense intents

Just queue my cue

I’m whole in the hole

I’ll soar out sore

As ink pours from pores

Each phrase inspires and imparts frays

Never lessen a lesson