Written

I am written.

In words not many know.

I am known by the font I type my stories with.

Since I am written it does not mean I cannot be wrote some more.

Only I can write the traits of me.

If some one else tries to tell me who I am, I know they don't know I am written.

Ink is my blood and the keyboard is my distill ends.

I know this story far better than any outside source.

Don't tell me who I am.

Many know nothing of the inside turmoil that sits on my heart.

Hardly any could say they've lived half of what I have been through.

I am written! Here on this page!

I am written in the notes the echo the music hall.

I am written on the bottom of the feet of the dancers.

I am written in the memories of all the stages.

This is my expression that I have earned.

It was not given to me as a gift.

My ink has bled out to empty when I gained angels in heaven.

The keyboard was hesitant when I became my disorders.

My flaws do not define my story.

My work to live this tragic and pulchritudinous life does instead.

With all my work I have noticed that I am written.

In the clouds my daydreams are a child's art.

At the side of the ocean my breath is a turtles first sight.

Some where out in the vast areas of space my ideas are found on every star.

I am written in this life and many to come.

I tend to write as I move.

Want to watch what the quill has to say next?

My life is real because I am written.  

This poem is about: 
Me

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