I once was a little girl

Who one day picked up a pen,

A notebook,

And never looked back

 

I became fascinated with words

That sang and danced

And told unique stories

Words so artistically arranged

Strung together like music

But were filled with impact

And power

And borderline dangerous,

If not used correctly

And that strangely intrigued me

 

I chose to however use them to others’ advantage

I used them to help people

To heal broken souls

To touch hearts intimately

 

Selfishly, I also used them for myself

It was how I expressed me

Thoughts, feelings, and all

When I had something to say

And no one would care to listen

So, I would make them listen

 

I used them

To live and breathe

With each word written,

I gasped for air

The world was a lake, in which I drowned,

Poetry, my life preserver

 

It was not just my own scrap of papers

With words scratched on them sloppily

That helped me survive,

It was reading

 

The more I read, the more I began to teem with life

It was through others’ words that

I saw things,

I, myself, could not conjure up

In my own mind

I was introduced to ideas

I went on adventures

I learned about life

I fell in love

And got lost in the madness

I escaped,

And there was truly no greater feeling

 

I once was a little girl

Who had a spell casted upon her

A spell that caused her to write like life itself

Depended on it

And perhaps in a way,

It did