I write to release,

the pain of my world undone.

A shattered soul,

and a lost trust.

Scattered dreams,

And a broken heart.

Writing is the place where I start.

I bleed out from within,

Battle scars that show prominently,

Proof that I'm not free.

Im a prisoner in my own body,

and writing is my cry for help,

being battered and bruised from all I've felt.

I scribble words across these pages,

to show the world who I am,

because, otherwise, no one can see me with a quick scan.

Im here for reason,

most unknown,

but I'm writing to find why, because writing gives me hope.

I know I'm different,

and many disperse me with a wave of their hand,

but it's not my fault, the things I turned to, where I land.

Writing is a passion,

details are my source,

a war cry that makes me hoarse.

Writing is an adventure,

and I love to explore.

I simply start with how I'm feeling,

and watch it change towards the end,

because, if you pay attention, they all twist.

I write to help myself,

and show others they aren't alone,

because I write to write, and writing is a hope.


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741