Paper and pen, why do you stare?
My heart gripping like a snare.
I spill like a punctured balloon
writing all of my cares.
Who's to judge my heart?
Who knew from the start
I would overflow with such emotion
with words, the red sea I part.
I find freedom, liberation
through my struggle and contemplation
word after word I am free,
a sweet relieving sensation.
The pen across the delicate page
calming me through fits of rage,
as if someone is listening
to the deeper things I say.
The truth of my heart cannot be hid.
When I held that pen it simply slid
left to right, piece by piece
the smiles that plague a happy kid.