There Is Ink In My Blood

Plath said, “I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still." That's what happens when you're no longer in control, when the voices in your head see instances of love, famine, war, heartbreak, betrayal, death, and life, and will not be silenced. I write because there is ink in my blood and words regularly cloud my vision. The English language is gorgeous and I struggle to find a way to articulate this particular kind of beauty. I write because I take notice of the struggles of man and my hands move to record these challenges. My thoughts move like a hurricane and I write because my body is physically incapable containing the storm. I am an empath and I feel and I am quiet and I take notice and a pen and paper are my drug of choice. I write because I am a soldier and poems are armor. I write because I have no choice. The wallflowers in my head are cognizant of everything and they whisper their secrets into my bones. A writer is not what I am, it's who I am. And that is why I write.