Words are a web of tangled imperfections
Different in their composition and order
Each a heartbeat in a symphony of chaos
Yet when they intersect they become one
All differences aside, they collide.

Dreams are like words
They too are irregular, unpredictable
We can only live through our own
Although we may cross others
It is ours that we might strive to achieve.

So I write to live the dream
To live the dreams of others
To one day understand why
Imperfections create beauty.

I write to live in the past
To cherish the moments I should have
To savour my innocence
To criticize my melancholy thoughts
To scream at myself and throw words
Into mirrors, wondering if they shatter
Into dozens of pieces like I once did.

I write to forgive
Myself and others for things
Unspoken but often thought of
To delve into my graveyard of buried hopes
To find something that is barely living
And make it thrive once again.

I write to release emotions
That people say shouldn’t be kept inside
They could kill you one day, rumor has it
I write to make something out of nothing
To float on into the puzzling future
I write to believe.