My Aunt GiGi introduced me to the pencil.

"Here baby, write how you feelin'" she told me.

So

I did.

word to sentences to paragraphs and back again.

Before #2 and i met

my first chance at art,was with fat markers

and crayons.

This love was different to me.

It seemed to say more.

My last lover was more silent

The scribbles i made didn't say much about me

how i felt

how i hurt

the pain of a young child.

The pencil did.

Every time i brought it to life, it spoke.

Sometimes softly,sometimes as loud as the thunder.

Sometimes dull, sometimes as bright and beautiful as the lightning kissing the sky.

I write,because it speaks.

Writing can tell more than just stories.

It tells ones true feelings.

Highs and lows.

It says much more than one can allow themselves to say.

It can SCREAM for the soft spoken

and whisper for the girl who screams from the inside out.