I think some days

What would I be

If I never speak

Be a normal teen

Let someone else write these feelings

To be part of life

Instead of with a pencil

I find myself lonely

No friends who understand

A sacrifice of a writer

The problem is

Wether I want to live

Or to write about it

What if I stepped aside

No more writing

Every writer has to give up something important

Jesus was a writer

He couldn't live among society

Now he's gone with my father

Fifteen years old

I write stories

Others live what I write before me

The sacrifice of a writer

Is to be a signed contract at birth

You either write about life

Or someone else will write it for you