Words

What is the magic behind my pen?

What is the need in the words I ‘spell’?

Why I choose to write and not to speak?

Penning my heart does not secret keep…

My mind is full, my mind is vast,

each word an experience, bound to my past.

They dance, they play, they hurt, they scar,

in this chaotic vault travelled so far.

Words are the colours within my soul

My notion of the world behold

The ink that bleeds upon this leaf

Releases my pain, unbinds my grief.

It’s ritual I found doth heal,

a way to connect to how I feel.

Pleasure in the impact, of a word on another

Brings light to my darkness, I discover.

I continue to live my life through rhymes,

my one true friend in these harsh times.

As I hold my book so close to my heart,

the world and I slip further apart.

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