Simple Act to Make a Person
Words.
Flowing like the tears or blood or emotion of that which they represent.
From my brain,
to my fingers, itching for the chance to write them,
into my pen, scribbling, furious as a storm,
onto the crisp page, now smothered in my thoughts.
Poems.
Formed by the mind, that they in turn formed.
Released by thee, who they in turn grant release.
Freed by the mouth, that they taught to be free.
Brought to the light by a heart, that was searching through the dark.
Shared by a person, who once found it hard to relay her truth.
Life.
This poem is about:
Me