Pen Paper Poetry

When I see a pen/And I see blank paper/My swimming buzzing thoughts seem to explode/My hand is too slow to let them escape/As if they are gasping for air/They can't get out fast enough/Though inside me they were concieved/Most frequently I never knew they existed/Sometimes I stare at the words my paper harbors/Unbelieving that just seconds ago/They were living breathing parts of me/But poetry isn't always simply impulse/When my head and my heart pound/And the pressure inside is too much/I search for pen and paper/Like a life vest/And I'm drowning fast/I remember once/Awkward preteen years/My competitive nature was besting me/I was victorious in every street ball and trouble game/And I was losing friends fast/I couldn't just play/Icouldn't just turn it off/I was frustrated/Angry/What was happening to me?/One night/When I was filled with self-loathing/I grasped a pen and paper/And told my competitive nature/What I thought of its antics/Paper was my confidante/And listened to me without judgement/My pen wrote under my firm hand/With empathetic smooth strokes/Instead of loathing myself/I let the fire to always win pour out of me/And then it was gone/Gone/Next street ball game/I laughed/I dont even remember if we won/I do remember I didn't NEED to win/Poetry had let me escape/It had let me heal/Now my thoughts long to be on paper/Some are made into plans/Some paper wads and thrown in the trash/But I am free/Stronger/Because I have pen, paper and poetry