Saturday, December 8, 2012


Writing is my art.  It’s my design.  It’s my carpentry.  It’s my song. 
It’s what I am on paper.
Like a mirror for my mind
My dreams stare me in the eye,
My thoughts look through me
They know me
They are me.

I can’t hide who comes out of my fingers
I can’t deny the feelings that fall on the keys
I can’t be more honest than when im here,
In my own head
Where no one can see me.

Some of the things I find here are beautiful.
They don’t deserve dusty demises
They too should taste light,
I owe them that much.

That’s why I write.

To give life to what makes mine sweet.

No comments:

Post a Comment