My Naive Mentality

All of us try to find who we really are,

Whether it's in our hearts,

Or in the stars.

I write because I found myself in the pages of spaces and lines,

Even when I was blind,

I could find my way through this time of struggle.

What a relief it was to say I was no longer puzzled.

I write because these words I put to relation,

Were not only my motivation,

But an imagination,

Created to take me away from a world filled with dictation.

Ironic it is, when I create my world,

With this pen and paper,

I become the dictator.

But a dictator I shall become if I want to labor,

To become someone greater.

I write because history is made,

When I put my shame,

And the things I'm afraid to say,

On this blank page.

I write so that one day,

My children can read my mistakes,

And refrain,

From doing the same.

I write because what I dream is only but reality,

If I don't I will lose my God given sanity,

It is what frees my naive mentality,

And flaunts my exquisite individuality.