Writing: My First Aid

Writing’s in my blood, but

I’m not always good

Other times it rushes out

Rushes out like a flood

Flows on the page

Gushes out in rage

And rhyme I do, if not for me- for you

It’s a wonder how I pick up a pen and create

Drop it and pick it up again.

Amazing how my anger and pain, longing and rain

Go stronger than joy

And ever remain on paper

Like blood on sheets left by

The man who beat and raped her

It’s all that’s wrong that I write

Better that than stay up at night

For crying will solve nothing

Not even for ‘her’

Who needs something

But will trust no one to give it

It’s hers and she’ll live it

For the rest of life’s time

Just like me….

I write to get set free

This is my comfort

What it takes to help me survive longer