Writing is a release of tension
Chipping away at the block that weighs down on my shoulders
Placed there by a father who expects too much for too little
Who only knows my face from the distorted view of a bottle.
The frustration that I feel that I can not physically say
Out of fear or respect, is up for debate.
I'll write down every twinge of hurt, and finally find the words.
Words that I wish I had, had.
Poetry written of the stereotypical victim, who dreams of redemption.
My Pandora's Box, filled to the brim with all the anger and hurt that my pen can scratch out.
Locked away, but never forgotten, not really.
When I write, I create the words. I have control.
He can't take that control from me.
When I write, I am finally free.
The sweet taste of something I thought I'd never know.
And when I put my pen down, and look at what I've done
It's almost like...
a bandaid ripped away, and the skin left behind, scabbed but healing.
And I can wake up the next morning, and be alright.
Because...writing is my release.
My reason for being okay.