I looked into my soul and seen that I had been missing for a year.
I found myself hurt and full of fear.
This talent that I had for so long just thrown away.
I started than stopped I couldn't persuade..
Myself to put the pen to the paper and flow with my words.
It was poetry in my head, but outside my head it was unheard.
A million things to say, yet all I seen was an empty sheet.
I couldn't let my situations defeat me.
So I was forced to speak.
I was forced to jot down every bit of my life.
A suicide mission, I was holding the knife.
Gently caressing my soul to relax, I organized a couple of sentences and stated a few facts.
This life I was destin to live was in fact a mere visual of the poetry I had lacked.