There are days when I drown in emotion
When I bleed it out, with words on a sheet
The pain, the grief, the anger or envy
Regret, heartbreak, hatred till I'm replete.

So then I decide not to write again-
I don't want to swim in self-pity.
But I break; I cannot stop! How could I?
Poems bring out light when life is ******.

My words may be crude, they're surely broken,
With no rhythm, rhyme, or sense, many a time.
Yet they weave a thread that guides me ahead,
That holds me aloft when I cease to climb.