Sharing is Caring

When I was young I didn't talk,
About what I felt inside.
Instead I wrote the feelings
Through rhythm and through rhyme. 

And the sadder the words, 
The more worried they got, 
Double edged swords, 
Straight through their backs.

My words they hurt them, 
Like sticks and stones, 
Twisting spirits, 
Breaking bones.

But as I wrote, 
more help I got. 
The words got happier, 
My problems got lost.

You see I write to help curb the pain, 
So that my family never sees me like that again.