How else would I survive?

I knew that I was different when I was about two

I was eating syntaxes instead of regular food

I inhaled stanzas whenever I would breathe

And when I ran my asthma was cured with similes

I knew that I was different when I was about four

Instead of bleeding blood I bled metaphors

My nerves were epics

My heart was a form

And this is how I realized

That I wasn’t the norm

Words are what I was made of

Sentences were what I could see

Paragraphs were my feelings

Paradoxes were my beliefs

Everyday I drank my puns

So I would grow big and strong

I spent my free time playing with paper

An object that felt like home

School was alliteration

Life was a haiku

Home became an elegy

And that is how I knew

That writing is who I am

Writing is my life

Writing is more than an art to me

It’s the reason I’m alive.