I am a writer.
My fingers fly across the keys
Desperate
In hopes of ridding my soul
Of the demons hidden inside
All of them
Grasping for something to feed off of
My anger
My fear
Even my happiness
So it can corrupt it
But writing kills the demons inside of me
Reducing them all to a pile of ashes
And it clears the unsure thoughts in my head
The voices telling me to do things
Things that I know
Deep in my soul
Aren’t right

That,
Ladies and gentlemen,
Is why I am a writer.