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