Why I Write

Why do I write you ask? Let me explain. My creativity is hard to contain. A container stocked with vivid images, like sweat on the turf of football scrimmages. A container filled with pressurized gas, releaisng Co2, increasing oxygen flow. Oxygen is equivalent to happiness.

Why do I write you ask? Takes away pain. Oxygen is the remedy to my mental ease, on the eve of a job for an assasins blade in the sleeve. Oxygen allows for toxins of thoughts that overcrowd, to join together as a cloud and head upward bound. My journal is my bestfriend, sure I love my school clique, though when my optimism distorts and bends, will they always make it normal again in the end?

Why do I write you ask? I need to express. Gear my unclaimed talents to a positive source. So I can directly direct my indirect intellect to success up North. Except I'm not good ol Timmy to return coal on Christmas, because Santa mixed me up with devious Jimmy. Woooh, though not Rick Flair, I will share the same flare of his glistening blonde hair. Becasue after countless years searching for a hobby, I'm coming closer to it, you'll know when I'm in the street, in the midst of sunset, trodding.

Why do I write you ask? To extract and determine my essence. Now, no professional, yes my confessional, you could probably tell, uh, so stress*uh*ful. We all have struggles, so lets changeit to that topic, as I scroll through my memories, I cringe as I watch it. Financial issues at home, would force me to act grown, thus crowning me the king in my home. My thrown awaited, geez how I hated, how food or utilites were debated. But here I am now letting the pen leak, like blood from the body in the streets. Once again I have vented, and the reader(s) is now my extension to my purpose. Now that you know why I write, as previously stated, because of expression and bottled up hatred, I hope you are satisfied, and know my effort was anything but jaded.

*Please not I'm just an amatuer and I went freestyle with the structure