I looked into my soul and seen that I had been missing for a year.

I found myself hurt and full of fear.

This talent that I had for so long just thrown away.

I started than stopped  I couldn't persuade..

Myself to put the pen to the paper and flow with my words. 

It was poetry in my head, but outside my head it was unheard. 

A million things to say, yet all I seen was an empty sheet. 

I couldn't let my situations defeat me.

So I was forced to speak.

I was forced to jot down every bit of my life.

A suicide mission, I was holding the knife. 

Gently caressing my soul to relax, I organized a couple of sentences and stated a few facts. 

This life I was destin to live was in fact a mere visual of the poetry I had lacked.