Why Waste?

I write to ensure that the things I put on paper Don’t end up on my body. I write because, while it is far easier to go back to how things are, The easy route is not always worth it. You see, sitting alone in my room, Makes for great epiphanies When the terribly loud and terrifying symphonies In my head seem to drown out truth. The human mind is a dangerous place, you know. It makes one believe that it cannot have what it seeks When it only seeks to be Free. Free from self-pity, from tragedy From the nothing everyone seems to say you will be. So, sitting alone on my floor drowning in my sorrows, In my anger for those who I felt had abandoned me, From scenarios, true and false, that swirled in that dangerous mind, I found that suffering was not the solution. See, someone once reminded me that pain, Pain is inevitable, but suffering-- That’s a choice. I was and am blessed by the One Above who offers me a relief. Why choose to suffer And waste the gift of words given only by Him?