Writing

Writing always cleared my mind,

And in the beginning it rhymed...

But as thoughts got complicated

And my life got complex...

I started forgetting the rhyme scheme.

Sometimes my writing doesn't make any sense,
And I don't understand what I'm writing,

Sometimes I don't focus on the words

But the sound of my fingers hitting the keys,

Or the sound of the pen caressing the paper...

And at the end, there's something so special...

Writing never became something public,

So many journals I kept hidden away,

Because my soul is my poetry...

And my thoughts somehow form silly words

And silly words, stanzas, and stanzas a poem.

Sonnets, haikus, you name it, I've done it...

I wrote some epic poem in high school,

And lost it...

But to be honest, to be completely fair...

I write what I do, to keep me sane.

And sometimes it helps to keep it where I do...

Because then I can't lose the link.

There's a mystery in who reads my thoughts,
And I don't really mind it, as long as it's just

Something people glance at,

But don't mention...

Now that the darkness is in another dimension...

Some of those poems were scary...

And some of those poems were true...

And I can still remember wanting to end it,

And those poems BARELY made any sense!

I like writing, honestly,

It what keeps me sane...

It's the one place I will say what I mean,

If it's good or it's bad or anywhere in between...

Uncensored, unspoken, unread, and forgotten...

I'll think it, I'll feel it, I'll write it...

I need it.