Do you write for yourself or for others? Maybe both...
Do you write because its a passion or do you write because you just had nothin else to do?
Is it truly your soul you put into your poems or just a few words that you wrote down on a piece of paper, the in a few days mean barely anything at all....
Is your emotion in them, can it be felt, or is a poem where you hide yourself in it, buried deep within, waiting to be found, but hardly anyone looks deep enough to truly find you...
do you write because its what you love, or do you write to hear people tell you how great of a writer you are, not really caring to write, just loving the praise...
Does it matter what people think, if they love it, hate it, criticize it, praise it, its your work, nobody can ever completely understand the message in your words but you, nobody can search between the lines and know 100%, it shouldn't matter what people think, its your work and if you care about what they say, its no longer "original and only yours"
i cling to my poetry because its the one thing in life that is assured, it can never be taken from me...
please everyone, tell me why you write
_-*-_._-*-_._-*-_._-*-_._-*-_
here's my poem black release
it explains why i write...
my passion and emotion and feelings are in my poetry, and it is my form of release, i do not choose cutting, or suicide, or fighting, i choose to write, its the way i let my feelings go, its my therapy you might say... its what keeps me going in life...
Black Release
~----~ As I put this pen to paper,
~---~ I let my emotions go,
~--~ On the black stained paper,
~-~ My pain does flow…
~
~-~ The lies scribbled down,
~--~ Dark as the night,
~---~ Sharp-edged letters,
~----~ Expressing life’s appalling fight...
~-----~
~----~ Indecipherable scratches,
~---~ From mistakes that were made,
~--~ But into the surrounding words,
~-~ The mistakes do fade…
~
~-~ My black teardrops,
~--~ Bleed through the white background,
~---~ Loneliness, happiness, sadness and shame,
~----~ Now spread all around…
~------~
~----~ What a wonderful release,
~---~ To scribble away,
~--~ Liberating your body,
~-~ From what you felt today…
~
~-~ A crumpled piece of paper,
~--~ Deep in the trash now lays,
~---~ Holding a person’s feelings,
~----~ Forgotten within days…
~-----~
~----~ But replaced within time,
~---~ By more feelings thought,
~--~ Only once again,
~-~ To be later forgot…
~
~-~ Here my emotions,
~--~ Are permanently placed,
~---~ Never again
~----~ Will they have to be faced…
~-----~
~----~ Forgotten in the future,
~---~ Remembered in the past,
~--~ The first thoughts,
~-~ Emphasized by the last…
~
~-~ Running like water,
~--~ But thick as blood,
~---~ Hardly comprehensible,
~----~ Only by some it’s understood…
