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.