I can't stop writing the same sayings,
you know when you have words right on your mind but can't quite explain their meanings.
Like how I make heads spin,
telling people of the wild reality life has been.
Where the pen became dead,
when my words splattered the paper as it bled.
You see, my body pulses in searching for the right phrases,
to say the feelings I never could've said.
The way an electric spark ignites with the rhyme of a melodic lullaby,
or how my mind speaks the words of a lost child saying her last goodbye.
Because all those thoughts stuck in my head,
flow through my veins,
through my hands,
and onto the paper.
They aren't just words I made up in a second,
it's all the words my mind was in fear of opening to people's presence.
It's when no one heard the words in need of hiding,
the paper and pencil screamed them out in writing.
I love how poetry creates the scripture of human's lives,
and the hurricane of words flutter from their minds,
to a poem in which their story defines.
How they bring people together,
who've been through the bright or dark weather.
Or how they teach real lessons,
about those who use the beauty of poetry for their own confessions.
I don't write my exploding fireworks in my brain for amusement,
I write to feed my addiction in expressing myself, as a human.