Emotional Writer

Writing through experience,

writing down my pain.

Without my writing,

I'd go insane,

Writing with purpose,

my fingers move in tune.

Releasing my thoughts,

my pain leaves soon.

Writing poems for people,

getting things off my chest.

Saying things in my poems,

I can't verbally express.

It comes so easy,

without a care.

When I'm writing,

I have no fear.

Writing is my love,

writing is my passion,

but like all things,

it's not everlasting.

The day will come,

my blood runs dry.

And just like me,

my poems will die.

 

 

I have to be honest,

I feel alone.

Like I have no real companions,

to call my own.

Don't feel offeneded,

don't get mad at me.

Step into my shoes,

and try to see.

Imagine being me,

different and black.

Taking all kinds crap,

but let it slide off your back.

Trying to be nice,

but people take it for weakness.

I look towards the future,

but I only see bleakness.

Reaching the end of my patience,

the end of the constraint.

So I make this gloomy picture,

that I may soon paint.