Writing is safer somehow

because pens don’t stutter like lips

words get stuck in throats, not fingertips

you cannot stumble on trails of blue lines.

Writing is definite and clear  

yet still remains mysterious.

At times no one can tell if you’re laughing, or crying

in written words alone.

Poetry holds our tender thoughts,

words we’re too afraid to utter aloud.

It’s a perpetual outlet

of our most raw emotions.

When you feel alone,

and there’s a hurricane ragging inside of you,

remember: you are not as alone as you think,

for there is comfort in spilled ink

Poetry will not ever judge,

like that of a human vessel.

It’s a comfort within a chaos.

It’s a trusted friend,

that will be there for you

at 4 a.m. when you cannot sleep

because your mind is a cacophony of thoughts.

It will never leave you,

for its an undying art form.

And it will be here,

long after you've passed,

offering sanctuary,

and a quiet outlet

for generations to come.