Out

My fingers return to the keyboard

My pencil returns to paper

I get it out.

The thoughts are overwhelming

The paranoia and fear and heaviness

I get it out.

I shake at night, weeping

I tremble in the arms of a friend

I get it out.

My parents refuse to accept me

Society refuses to better my kind

I get it out.

I always return to writing

Because it aids me to keep living

To get it out.