I write because my head is full of things I cannot say out loud.
I write for the way my heart bleeds when people cut into it.
I write as my heart swells with joy until I feel like the Grinch on Christmas day.
I write when I cannot think of anything but hate;
The words angrily scrawled out on paper like hot flames burning up my emotions.
I write to let everything out.
I write because writing cannot talk back;
It can't tell me I'm wrong or to change something
It is purely just me.
I write because it is the one thing that will not judge me no matter what I say.
I write because writing is all I have.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
I write because my head is full of things I cannot say out loud.
I write for the way my heart bleeds when people cut into it.
I write as my heart swells with joy until I feel like the Grinch on Christmas day.
I write when I cannot think of anything but hate;
The words angrily scrawled out on paper like hot flames burning up my emotions.
I write to let everything out.
I write because writing cannot talk back;
It can't tell me I'm wrong or to change something
It is purely just me.
I write because it is the one thing that will not judge me no matter what I say.
I write because writing is all I have.
Some of the very many reasons why I write.
Request permission to use this poem