P o E t R Y
The Pen is like my get away
The words are my heart being free
It didn't just happen over night
While growing up reading was the light
If i couldn't read how could i write
On that very first night The Pen became my get away
I was sad i was lonely i was happy i was joyful the ink told my story
Crying for my mother the paper felt them tears.
The words are my heart being free
Everything i wrote expressed me
I asked myself am i a Poet : them words : the ink : the paper :
I discovered it was Poetry within me .
This is my life : it set me free
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