Right?

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.