Poems are a fun thing to write,
The way my pen lit up at night,
And the only way I ever felt bright.

It became more than just an ordinary hobby,
Surrounded by people who said poets are ******.

Poetry is a way of life,
A way to survive,
A path for people who pray to stay alive,
Settled a life filled with strife,
And nothing left to do but let words strive.

That is why I'm still on Earth,
Writing felt like natures calling,
Because even when I was free falling,
Picking up a pen,
Meant picking myself up again.