Why I Write

October 10, 2011
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I don’t want to be the same as others
I want to stand out among the crowd
I want to be the sore thumb
Amongst soft, fine fingers
I want to be the blue,
Among the red
The vibrant, bright yellow amongst
The dull, boring black

I want to be me
In a world that won’t let me
That says I must conform
To societies standards

I want to be a free bird
Flying high
Through the wind
With my only worries that of
Food, sleep, and shelter

The one place I know
I can be free
Is on this white, blue, and red striped paper
The blank one in front of me

It won’t judge me on what I write
It doesn’t care
About societies standards

It wants to hear what I have
To write
It just wants me to be me
And nothing else

To write what I feel
To write what I believe in
And what I don’t believe in

To write my thoughts
My dreams and nightmares
My worries and things I care most about

I write because pens, paper, words
Are my only weapon
Against this world and
The people in it

It wants to say to me,
“Be free. Be different. Be you”
And I will
Because this,
This is why I write.





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