Words do not a writer make
Nor poems nouns or prose
But the heart that breaks for breaking sake
Beyond calling Rose a rose

It's not the nouns or adjectives
Or strings of sappy lines
It's seeing love where nothing lives
And seeing darkness shine

A writer sees beyond the words
But sees the great divide
Between what heart says and what is heard
Never satisfied

A writer does not fill the page
With words that others need
But the page the page is the stage
Where their emotion bleeds

Of the things I think a writer holds
You may disagree
But if your heart is moved to words so bold
A writer you may be