The words are out to get me,
They’re dancing in my head.
I’m sure they won’t be happy,
until I’m filled with dread.
The pen is my protector,
releasing what’s inside.
Inked salvation, in my hands
On paper, words can’t hide.
And so you see my torment,
trapped upon the page.
Lost in sweet oblivion,
in silence, words still rage.
I love this one! It hits home for me. Writing is the way I release the pain, hurt, joy, and creativity that lives inside of me. It's the tool I use to bare my soul to the world.
ReplyDeleteI believe that's why writers write...they can't help it :)
If you don't write you feel weighted down by everything that's storming and raging around inside.
Thanks for posting this!
Marcus
this poem really sums up what writing is to many people. A release, a method of expressio, stress release, and it applies not just to stories or poetry but to letters, journals, even small notes to loved ones.
ReplyDelete