I am a Writer
I guess I should have known, since I started writing stories at the age of eight
I wish I had the mind to keep them because I don’t remember what I had written
Now, all I remember are My black words on the yellow pages with blue lines
I didn’t know my destiny for a long time
I just wondered and pondered what passion felt like
And at times I still wonder if I have it in me, the ability to sustain such passion
But now I relish writing and
reworking my emotions on the page
I close my aching eyes as my body cries in exhaustion
I feel the veins under my lids, hot
My heart pulses against the inside of my breast, bringing my attention to
the cotton candy sheets in the dark
I breathe in slowly, trying to focus on the next hour of rest
I exhale, only to be inspired to write another few sentences
I am a Writer
LiberTeeLove 