Paper, Pen, and Heart
I write because I want to find myself.
Into my innermost thoughts I delve,
And in these thoughts I dwell.
The simplest of feelings becomes meaningful.
Even my pain and sorrow is made beautiful.
Words I can only hope to say aloud,
Break the chains, in which they are bound.
They form arches and curves, finding the way out.
A soft whisper finds its way upon a blank page,
Becoming a mad desire, burning with an inner rage,
The things I had only hoped to say.
Love, sorrow, hopes, and dreams,
Create a perpetual and wonderful link,
Between the pen and paper through which I speak.
Time ceases to exist as my minds starts to travel,
Into the beautiful mystery that I yearn to unravel.