Birth of a Poet

Why do I write?! What caused me to pick up the sacred pen?...To answer this question I'd have to give you a small look within the past that held me within it's dark, taunting grasp for so long. I lost my best friend to a tragedy at the age of nine. I loved her so much and you never really get over the death of someone you love especially if the last words they said to you were "I love you". My world was shattered into none existence...nothing could feel the void that was in my chest and I was a diver plunging into that mess! Tears caressed my face and that was the only thing that soothed my soul. However no matter how it was I still didn't feel whole! I lost the only person who made me feel special. After all everybody needs somebody to make them feel like they're somebody when they're done and out and feel like they're nobody! I couldn't escape it until I remembered how I coped with the loss of my grandfather a few years earlier: Writing poetry. I sat down and wrote my soul out, drowning most of the ink in tears! It was a mess but I let go of all the sorrow in my heart! and from that period up until this very poem I type, the writer within me was born. It's been 9 years since that blood stained Valentine's Day but they say that for every bad must fall some good and even though I lost my world, I gained the tools I needed to build another one...a world I escape to every time I pick up a pen. That's why I write. I consider it the last gift Rachel left to me...a gift that I'll use forever more.