Simple Act to Make a Person

Words.

Flowing like the tears or blood or emotion of that which they represent.

From my brain, 

to my fingers, itching for the chance to write them,

into my pen, scribbling, furious as a storm,

onto the crisp page, now smothered in my thoughts.

Poems.

Formed by the mind, that they in turn formed.

Released by thee, who they in turn grant release.

Freed by the mouth, that they taught to be free.

Brought to the light by a heart, that was searching through the dark.

Shared by a person, who once found it hard to relay her truth.

Life.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741