The pain was bottled up inside of me
and the thoughts I had, I could not foresee.
I felt like I was all alone and no one cared
and that I could no longer be repaired.
My life was spiraling out of control
and I was digging a deeper hole.
Didn't anyone notice a change?
Didn't they see I became estrange?
I wanted to let people know that I wanted to die,
but I didn't think I had a trustworthy ally.
With nowhere else to turn
a pen and paper is where I began to learn.
My feelings seemed easier to express;
Everything I could confess.
The things I was too afraid to say
through Poetry found a way.
But, through this, a talent began to bloom
and quickly went to hope from doom.
What was once used to conceal
became a place to again feel.
The ideas never ceased to stop
and the rhymes began to drop.