Written
I am written.
In words not many know.
I am known by the font I type my stories with.
Since I am written it does not mean I cannot be wrote some more.
Only I can write the traits of me.
If some one else tries to tell me who I am, I know they don't know I am written.
Ink is my blood and the keyboard is my distill ends.
I know this story far better than any outside source.
Don't tell me who I am.
Many know nothing of the inside turmoil that sits on my heart.
Hardly any could say they've lived half of what I have been through.
I am written! Here on this page!
I am written in the notes the echo the music hall.
I am written on the bottom of the feet of the dancers.
I am written in the memories of all the stages.
This is my expression that I have earned.
It was not given to me as a gift.
My ink has bled out to empty when I gained angels in heaven.
The keyboard was hesitant when I became my disorders.
My flaws do not define my story.
My work to live this tragic and pulchritudinous life does instead.
With all my work I have noticed that I am written.
In the clouds my daydreams are a child's art.
At the side of the ocean my breath is a turtles first sight.
Some where out in the vast areas of space my ideas are found on every star.
I am written in this life and many to come.
I tend to write as I move.
Want to watch what the quill has to say next?
My life is real because I am written.