they say,
"**** kid you write so much"
i say,
"how could i not when my home
was stripped off words
for so long -
so ******* long that my lips cracked
like aged paint tearing off walls.
and i thought my voice
will forever be lost in these desolate rooms
that i learned how to scream
without having to make a noise."
and maybe if they say,
"**** kid you write so well"
i'll reply with a shrug,
"maybe for you...
but i never thought about it
all i know is that i've felt empty
for so long -
for so ******* long that now i let myself write.
write whatever. to fill the empty
rooms with new, colorful paint."
-n.c.
Just wrote this and didn't even edit it or check for errors. I guess sometimes being impulsive in writing lets us surprise ourselves with what what we truly feel inside.