Bleeding Words

I used to write because I was angry,

Which looking back is a silly thing to do

Because I saw words as something beautiful,

Yet, how are you supposed to make something beautiful out of anger?

I wrote because I thought I couldn’t talk to anyone,

Which is just as silly, because when you write,

You can talk to anyone who reads it,

But that’s something you can only learn

For yourself.

I wrote of made up things,

Because it was so much more exciting

than the truth but looking back, it’s not,

Our own adventures are just as exciting,

Our own souls run just as deep.

Now? Now I write because it makes me happy,

I may not be a very good poet, or a very good storyteller,

But I’m pretty sure that should you cut me open,

I will bleed words.