I Write to Live

Location

 

The 5 senses I was blessed with became my curse

 

I saw, I felt, I smelled, I heard, i tasted what my life offered me

 

My hopes, thoughts, and dreams became deflected

 

Memories only remind me of all my could-haves and what-ifs 

Lights flashing every night, Bacardi and vodka peered through the breathes of mom and dad

 

Baby brother sound asleep where I left him

 

While he dreams of Spider-Man saving the world, I only wish I had time to dream, time to sleep

But right now it's time to make sure momma comes back home

 

Time to listen while daddy asks me for help

 

Time to let them know that I'm here and it's going to be okay

 

Time to put myself aside and look over what should have been looking over me

 

No time to play with Amanda, who lived down the street

 

Amanda was a pretty little girl that was left with baby sister in her care in an empty home everyday

 

I just wanted to play, but there was no time for that

 

The tall white man in a blue uniform became momma's best friend

 

He came over every week asking daddy questions about moms purple and blue marks left on her arms and legs

 

I didn't like men in black and white cars with loud blue and red lights because they didn't seem to like us

 

If only they could see past my small forehead, thick skull, and blood pumping around the brain that cursed me with the ability to be normal

 

if only they could know all the pictures and flashbacks I had stored inside of me, the pool of screams and cries for help I had to swim in every night no matter how cold the water felt to the touch of my toes

 

No matter the strong chlorine sent that would burn my nose

 

No matter of my fears because I wasn't the only one scared

 

I had no back bone, no courage, no voice

 

At least no voice that could be heard by ones ear

 

No, my voice lived inside of me

 

I just didn't know it yet

 

I was always the girl who sat silently in the corner just watching, anticipating your next move, and studying your habits and patterns 

 

I was the lone wolf who strayed away from the pack

 

Not for any special reason other then I wanted to be alone and just that

 

As a young lady, I read and read and read

 

A whole new fascinating world captured between letters, periods, commas, hyphens, and paragraphs

 

But those pages only remind me of all my could-haves and what-ifs

 

I had no escape

 

There was no way out

 

My first real present came in a small plastic package that was only worth 99 cents at the corner store

 

It contained my 6th sense 

 

It came unsharpened with a perfectly untouched eraser that I was sure I wouldn't need

 

Within the first letter I wrote on my sheet of blank school paper, my inner voice was found

 

And it was heard

 

Not by the men in the blue uniform or Amanda down the street, who lost her voice through cigarette buds, Ciroc bottles, unprotected sex, abortions and STD's

 

No, I heard my own voice

 

I found It

 

I did

 

The words weren't thought of, but they came naturally like the breathes I take, the number of heart beats I have, like the way i blink subconsciously

 

The words written poured out of me, as did the tears I held in, until my pool was completely empty

 

A surreal moment

 

A new memory

 

An added sense that didn't curse me, but rather blessed me with a gift

 

Writing poetry is a new way of feeling, seeing, touching, smelling, and tasting 

 

It's a whole new fascinating world captured between letters, commas, hyphens, and stanzas 

 

While it doesn't erase the past, it brings forth a new future

 

This is my escapeThis is my way out

 

It keeps me sane

 

It captures my soul alive

 

It cures me and opens up the eyes of others who have yet to find their inner voice

 

Why do I write you might ask

 

Well, you see...I don't live to write

 

I write to live

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