Victoria

Without pen and paper And an ongoing flow of words, I am nothing. To find beauty in plain words, Syllables that turn ordinary thought into beauty Is something extraordinary. If I could not express my life through Artful sentence construction I would be dust. Vanquished by a stolen thought And a voice that could not make a sound. Through paper I find solstice Something that can pull my thoughts Into something that makes sense. Scribbles and scratches form a passion. Poetry is to learn who you are Because you did not know before The thoughts that crossed your own mind.