I sing to voice the colors of my soul. I write to bring the words I feel to life. I rhyme to feel that I am in control, And breathe to know that I am not a knife. I dance to taste the wind blow in my hair. I bend and sway to dodge these fiery darts. I hide to keep my feelings unaware That everything I reach for falls apart. I bow to broken people like myself, But when did prayer become a second guess? I lie in bed and curse my mental health And wish for broken bones instead of stress. When all is said and done, I cry to feel, And hurt myself to know that this is real.