Pick up the Pen,
                Put it to Paper
Write to Write.
        It is your therapy.
                     Where you find release.
How things come out.
              Do not analyze it.
Just do it.
          The words will enact
                    What They Must.
Most things will be for you
              Because you have allowed the turmoil.
Why do you fear?
          Why find it so hard,
                                             discouraging,
                     Unpowered
To allow your passion,
                                       Learn the knowledge.
Daunting,
                  Yes.
End goal?
                None.
                             So far
                                 Right Now.
Lost from Home,
        from touch,
        from tender allowance
                                 to be so calm
Not on the edge
               Wistfully walking this manicured path.
Though I do not believe they exist.
                      At least not wholly.
Some things get easier,
                      A path you do not have to clear,
Sadly most fought through.
                  Know what you need to do.
Why can you not find the energy?
                                     the desire
                                     the anything
To sit down and read what angers you,
                            That anger feeds the passion
Passion such a daunting task,
                                               repeatedly kicked down.
So much courage lost,
                                      Not built,
               Drained away
Must learn to step forth,
                                         Crash into what is there
Just go out,
                     You make yourself alone
Trying to end
                        The endless cycle.
Trying to gain some advantage
                        Over this creeping Darkness.