Writing is Life

Someone told me it's not the end,

Into the darkness I descend.

Falling through empty promises

That are to never to come true,

Tied to a noose made by the view of the world

As I dangle wordless and helpless.

I gasp for air, but my lungs are broken,

Choking on what I need to say,

Words that the world took away.

 

So here I sit silent and alone,

Staring at the white walls of home.

I look at the glowing screen,

Wanting nothing more

Than to pour out my heart,

And speak my mind

Because I am dying inside.

I stare at pages blank before me,

Thinking of words red and oozing.

I put them on the page

Rahter than having to choose

Between sadness and happiness,

Light and blues.

I write to live,

I write to smile,

I write to go the extra mile.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country

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