The Pen and I

April 20, 2016

I hide behind metaphors and dark places

These last few months have been like hell

I've been fighting with every bone in my Body just to open my mouth

Being alone is the disease and the cure

I've been fighting off demons in my sleep and ain't nobody helping me but me

Ain't nobody asked if I was ok

But it's my fault I'm the one smiling when it hurts

Does that make me a liar or does that me strong

I am the epitome of an eccedentesiast

They only care about themselves and my jokes

that makes them feel good so where is my happiness

I had to find my joy

It began with the pen

when I found my art

I found myself

I was no longer lost in life

I was no longer a cloud of depression

I could vent now

no one knowing my secrets

but me and my tear stained diary

we became one

and I became a poet

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