Thursday, May 28, 2015


When it doubt, I run to words.
They are my shield and my weapon.
I use them to breathe when my voice and breath are taken from me,
When I am empty and shaking and scared,
Convinced I am unworthy, I am broken.
I fill my head up with words.
I settle them on shelves around me,
Symbolizing the abstract with words;
The black and the white, the comfort,
The only safety I have.
So when I run from my problems,
My body stays in the room.
My mind flies away,
My hands write;
When I've had nothing, I've had words.
Some days,
I only keep going
Because I can write.

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