I'd like to create words with sunshine,
But it seems like they're filled with rain,
Storms, lashing across a piece of paper,
Lightning on a screen, shocking a reader
Thundering in emotion, their sounds unheard,
I'd wish for them to be simple and clear,
Concise, apt, optimistic, perhaps even brave,
All I can come up with are anxious refrains,
Maybe something's truly wrong with my brain?
Truth be told, I would rather not lie,
When there are things I don't know how to say,
When I struggle where others seem to thrive,
Writing helps me be glad to be alive.
If these are the words that leave me today,
I'll accept them, for I am glad they exist,
When the world leaves me broken, feeling small,
I'd rather have some words, than none at all.