The origins of it's presence have long become blurred throughout time

However one thing's for certain,

While my actions have spoken volumes

Nothings has compared to the piercing cry my pen has produced

And my voice has bellowed.

First appearances and introductions tend to be amiss

When you find the one the one thing you've been aching for all your life,

the one thing you could truly confide in; a friend.

With this friend of mine I've walked beaches, attended funerals, overcome doubts

I've faced my greatest fear of all;

Accepting the face in the mirror as my own

I truly can't explain what triggered my hands to start painting words upon a page

And I would've never assumed this new art form would be an escape for all my pain

As a kid, I listened to the lyrics artists preached

I played them on repeat until I realized that I was free

Free of the chains that bound my mind

Free to write whatever I desired.