Why Do I Write

Poetry is a living, breathing organism that haunts my every waking moment.

It thrives in the darkest recesses of my mind where it waits to be found.

It is my shadow.

Poetry is the reflection of myself that stares back at me from the bathroom mirror.

It is my pain.

It is my sorrow.

It is my salvation.

 

Poetry is the sunlight of a new day shining through my windowpane.

It is the meadow flowers in springtime.

It is the air that I breathe in, the blood that runs through my veins.

Poetry is my joy.

It is my life.

It is my song.

 

You ask why I write. I ask, “What else is there?”

The words that cascade from my lips to this pen to the page in front of me are all I see in life.

I write because, without it, I would be nothing.

Poetry is everything I am and everything I can ever hope to be.

 

I walk the halls of my lowly high school, and all I see are people swimming

While I, myself, am drowning.

I’m drowning in thoughts, in words.

They fill me until I can no longer contain them.

They beg to go forth into the world, but they cannot.

 

My problem is that I can’t get what’s in my head to come out of my mouth.

I’ve never been able to communicate.

I write because I cannot speak to those around me.

I cannot show others who I am because I fear that they will reject me.

This fear paralyzes me until I can barely move.

Until I can barely breathe.

 

I write because it is the only way that I can show the world who I am.

I write because anything else would be giving up,

And that would be too easy.

 

I write because I don't want to be scared anymore.

Because life seems a little brighter when you can wake up and know that someone somewhere understands.

 

I write because it is who I am.

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