I write to hide away the pain;
That quiet, deep pain.
I throw my thoughts on the page and it creates art—
You are foolish if you think this is just words,
Because it is truly more.
Each letter I write, I learn more about myself—
I’m so lost in my mind that it hurts.
That’s why I continue with it.
It helps figure me out.
It paints my picture.
It’s what makes me,
Me.
The thousands of thoughts lingering in my head
Turn into thousands of words on a page.
The letters don’t save me—
But they do remind me I’m worth being saved.
Maybe that’s enough;
Maybe that’s everything.
