• Thoughts flow from pen to page
    with no regard for meter or rhyme.
    Just pure emotion
    translated by clumsy words
    that cannot convey the truth,
    the love, and the hate,
    that lie beneath the confused body writing this.
    Fear and doubt cloud every judgement.
    Struggling within the confines of a language.
    Yet it is in me to try.
    I have no reason,
    no excuse,
    nor any real wish to bare my soul.
    There is an urge, though,
    that cannot be easily dismissed.
    So once again I put my pen to page,
    and call upon my anguished heart
    to lend me strength,
    as I lay my soul bare before you,
    to relive the horrors that haunt me,
    and to confess my sins,
    if only to myself.