20 Moving Through Life. Chapter Twenty: Morning Drive

I write when in distress, I am depressed, when I feel so scared, I have to write; It makes the emotions so right. My pen is my light, my paper aids my sight; The might of feeling, takes my stories to flight; Turning the dark, into light.

When my mind turns to guys, I grab a piece of paper; I lay it all out on my canvass. Life throws me my stanzas, it builds my stance, my whole head in a trance.

I turn negative emotions, to positive stories, they're histories of certain appearances.

Sometimes, I hit a brick wall, and not know what to write; I sit and think, the journal, at me, stares and blinks.

Then it all runs to me, out of the soul, is a bowl of words, popping straight out at me.

I align the sentences, direct the lines to rhymes; The sighs of the mind in me, grinds.

Poetic therapy, lessons for me, in which the meaning never lessons.

When people read my stories, I wonder what they're thinking, I hope discouragement is sinking.

Surprise tries to slap us across the face, its desire is for us to be unprepared.

React your way, don't let the thoughts say you can't; You don't always choose what you're going to lose, but become out of it, a strengthened person.