I am…

I am a poet.

Overwhelming, destructive thoughts.

She said write.

So I wrote.

She said don’t paint your skin red.

So I wrote.

I listened.

I was tired.

That’s why I write…

I write to feel.

I write to breathe.

I write to know I have a purpose.

I write to give hope.

I am a poet.

I cry…

I am a poet who cries.

My work is a cry for help.

My work is a cry for longing.

My work is a cry for acceptance.

That’s what makes me a poet.

I am A poet.