You know I don’t care if you like my verse

Though I will admit it is nice

I don’t write it for you or your approval

I write for the fear that I will drown in a sea of ideas

I write because of I fear the words would burst out of my chest

and I would  cease to be

the person I fought so hard (with myself) to be

Images painted in my mind, a cliche phrase or a clever turn of words.

I am always afraid of being the former.

I come home and write.

Get up and write.

And all my words

My need to get them out

Can seem so worthless

in the blink of an eye

in the span of a breath

in one word from you