Why I Write

 

To me

Writing is a release of emotion

Whether joy, sadness, hope, or pain.

It is self-expression:

A colorful mess of half-formed thoughts

Laid out on the page

For analysis.

 

To me

That intimate sensation of drama and clarity

That writing brings

That special significance of creation

Is a pacifier.

I pull at the raw, red strings of emotion

So tangled and sharp

And force them into something beautiful.

 

To me

The calm flow of words

Is both soothing and senseless.

With a tendency towards cliché

And a flair for the dramatic.

It is an outlet

And a drug.

 

To me

God is an unlikely fantasy

And confiding in others is difficult.

Sometimes I write in a half-hope

That others will see

And understand.

Other times I write

Only to reflect.

 

To me

The words are meaningful

They are impulsive and deliberate,

Idiotic and wise.

They are therapy and art,

But most of all they encapsulate

My state of mind

 

Although these words are flawed,

They are perfect

To me.

 

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