When I had no journal,

Words spewed out of me.

No place to safely keep them,

They covered my notes and scrap papers,

Littered my mind,

And left their path of destruction through my thoughts.

Few are the moments

When I don't have my mind wrapped around

A word.

A thought.

Something later to be put into beautiful writing.

Those thoughts swim in my head,

Pound at the door.

Waiting inpatiently for their perfect moment to

Escape

Onto paper, of some sort.

Whenever they come out,

My pen starts moving

With a mind of its own!

One word follows another

Until a page is filled

Of my thoughts,
And you're free to read them.