Why do I write?
Why do I sit down at my computer every day and watch the cursor
Plunking out letters that I have willed to make words
That I have willed into existence
I think I write for the same reason that I read
Somehow someway these words on a page
These mere pieces of the English language
Have manifested themselves as feelings
As convictions in my own mind
I can ecape from the things that I don't want to think about
I can be who I want to be
I can be perceived how I want to be perceived
I continue to write and I continue to read
I will until my dying breath because that is all I have
A line of words blocks me from the edge
Those words that people have told me
"I love you and I'm proud of you." -My Hero
YOU ARE READING
What Life Is
PoetryThe poetry journal of a senior in high school. Raw and virtually unfiltered emotions from someone with a lot going on.
