| Words by Bridgett I sit down to write a poem That only I will read, To let out my most secret thoughts On white paper with black ink. Some might say this is a total waste of time, Some might question why I do this, And all that I can tell them, quite frankly, Is that I do this for my own sanity and bliss. To write down words that live inside Is something quite amazing, But I have no control what my hand may write, The pen does all the phrasing. So, you can't see all my pen says Cause some things need to remain private, But not let out, those simple words Can't bare to remain silent. So, I pick up my pen And my hand begans to write, Words appear, loud and clear, But I will keep some out of public sight. So, why, you ask, do I bother? It's as if I have no choice, Words come and words go, And if they are written down they know, They shall always live through My pen and my peice of paper. |
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