Someone once asked me
"Why do you write?"
This I what I said:

Have you ever felt
Something so
Strong,
So powerful,
You just broke down in tears?
You don't even know
What to call this feeling;
You just know
It hurts.
It makes you want to
Put a blade
To your skin.
I've felt this.
I've felt this
Many times.
I've put a blade
To my skin.
That's why I write.

I replaced the blade
With a pen.
I replaced my skin
With paper.
Rather than
Blood
Trickling down my wrist,
Ink bleeds out of my pen
And onto my paper.
My pen bleeds the sorrow
From my bones.
My pen bleeds the pain
In my heart.
My pen tells the stories
That my mouth is too afraid to tell.

I write to drain
My soul
Of all the
Hurt
The impurities
The fears
The secrets.
I write to make room
For the laughter
The smiles
The memories
The happiness.

I write to tell my story.
I write to remember.
I write to set an example.

I no longer keep my pain
Hidden
Under long sleeves
And bracelets.
I no longer keep my pain
A secret.
I no longer put the blade to my skin.

Blood transformed to ink;
This is why I write.