At night
I am a poet
Alone and myself
Otherwise I wouldn't show it
I sit by myself
And am labeled and outcast
Unsociable
And different
But that's ok
I have my words
And my paper
And can be and do anything I have the will to write.
And let me promise you
I will.
My heart is the ink
Prose is my page.
With Freedom not fear
I put feelings to paper ...
Allowed to breathe,
break and be heard,
I slowly sew wounds to
patch parts unfixable ...
In the valley of Prose,
I am colored by
shades of beauty
as I recycle my soul ...