Writer

  

I write to breathe    it’s the only way     I exhale.

I write for the little girl silenced, 

questions left unanswered.

I write to live

Lungs exposed       heaving chest

bleeding ink turning 

inside and out.

I write for a life line 

a shared moment

to feel alive

know I am not alone,

I write as a sword against monsters 

an exorcism of demons,

to turn nightmares into dreams.

Control my version of my own story

Writing freezes time,              extends it.

Is my champion, caregiver, and deity. 

I write for blind eyes, deaf ears. 

To release burdens with the flip of a page, 

rephrase the world in a way I can grasp. 

I speak what I write because someone told me to shut up

and I never do what I’m told.

I write away stereotypes

take away shackles of submission

my voice belongs to me.

I am never afraid of what I write

I am terrified of what I don’t

I hid in notebooks gathering dust for too long

I write because this is not a choice for me.

It 

is 

me.

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