A poem I wrote called “Writing”.

Writing comes from the soulYou let go of things you didn’t even know

For the canvas is a collection of your innermost thoughts and unique to you

Often told in a voice you’re not even sure of

The ink bleeds onto the page and therapy ensues

You unload all of the extra baggage 

And embrace your truths

Even though they might conflict with the world’s truths

You take in the self-doubt and you keep writing in hopes that you reach a place of understanding 

One that was not previously present

By delving into the soul

And unearthing things you didn’t want to know 

The process can be both therapeutic and painful

That is the curse of the writer

It can be a crippling experience or a window into the truth that is much more telling than one’s eyes

The pen opens up a window into the version of yourself that even your closet friends and confidants might not have known

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