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.