It seemed as if all the words that were never there
came rushing into me like a breath of fresh air.
The stale state I had lived in day after day
became colorful and beautiful in so many ways.
My best friend became my pen,
and it made me alright, but only then,
When my words became my refuge,
and I submit my eyes to the moon.
Another day, more screaming and hate-
More wishing I could make it go away.
My body still, my mind a mess
My little hands so cold with sweat.
I escape to my room to sing my song;
To my silent disco until the sound is gone.
I let my words become my lullaby,
Drying the tears that fell from my eyes.
Darkness filled my thoughts over time,
but I chose the paper instead of my thighs.
Line after line, I wrote to breathe.
I wrote to reach my goals and dreams.
When I was lost and alone in a toxic life,
My words became my paradise.
I owe everything I am to my poetry,
for not letting myself let go of me.