If you looked into my brain, you'd see gears that constantly turn,

And see words formatting themselves as inspiration--like fire--burns.

I was not inspired by the great poets of old, nor was I taught in a class.

Since childhood, I simply took a pen and paper and wrote as time passed.

How could I have known that this would become my art?

All I've done is express my experiences from the heart.

Yes, my fingers fly and jump around likef a skipping heart-beat;

Inspiration fills me with words that sound so sweet!

It's been rooted deeply into my life,it even has a part in my prayers;

I can freely describe my triumphs and struggles, my glee and despairs.

This God-given gift has become a part of my identity;

It's as though it were a branch that's attached to a tree

My journey with words doesn't have a dramatic backstory,

But that's okay, for I prefer not to write for my own glory.

I just love to use what God gave me and create literary art!

The only thin that bugs me is not always knowing where to start...