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."
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.