Back when life rampaged me,
Sent demons to attack me.
As it continues to do today.
My only escape is the text I imagine.
The diction that is obsolete from normal thought.
Escapes the chains of reality and flows serenely.
In times of hardship, romance, or even joy.
My poetry isn't for everyone.
The poetry I create is a part of Me.
It's a peephole into the cramped void that I call my mind.
Those who understand know me.
I write to express the unknown, that which I don't understand.
To thank, to show, to love, to explain.
I write for me, for the love of my life, for my friends.
I write because I love to write.