You say you want to know about me, even about my past.

My autobiography if you will, the secrets behind the glass.

When I write each line today, it will be for all the same reasons,

The hidden thoughts I have to bear, building with each season.

Sometimes I write for those who can't, sometimes for voices unheard.

Other times when I write the most, I'm screaming out to the world.

I write to those without eyes to see, for those without ears to hear.

Some say I hide these thoughts inside, purely out of fear.

I'll tell you now with a heavy heart, that sometimes they are right.

But that "sometimes" is a small percent, I always stand and fight.

My family, friends, and loved-ones, words they will never see,

Are all the thoughts and secrets, poetry pulls from me.

After reading my reasons for writing, and for this hidden life,

Reflect upon your very own, with this I bid you goodnight.