Its not worth your thoughts (self-centered)

I reckon I spoke.
I spoke and I broke.
The bond of air and word.
I spoke and I showed.
Words that stood and posed.
Like man whose hearing is being overdosed.
It might not be worth your thoughts.
But I hope you heard,
What I'm yet to say.

I reckon my words have no destination.
Ever since our separation.
Simply because they needed liberation.
I ask you give my words shelter.
Residence within your mind.
They might not be worth your thoughts.
But please listen attentively.
Sometimes I speak in reverse.
Or should I say "reverse in, in I speak".
Without my words I turn weak.
I hope they make you strong as they reside to your point of view.

I reckon you can'it relate,
can'it you contemplate.
Why I spill ink on one plate.
To be consumed by more than eight.
Rejected views; you have already ate.
Even if you leave my words in the cold.
Because yours remain untold.
Ink does not only speak it listens too.
And I'm branded by it.

I am big.
I am beat.
I am the man.
I wrote this to exemplify.
The things to look for.
When a self-centered poet breathes forth.
Poets should not only consider inner thought.
But the telepathic battle we fought.

It is probably not worth your thoughts.
But next time you ink your plots.
Think whether it's worth your thoughts.
Next time you nod and snap to a self centered poet,
acknowledging I's and Me's.
Glorifying self with,
I's that do not see other cries.
Me's that never go on their knees.
Think whether it's worth your thoughts.