why I write

I am a noir poet
I don’t write of roses
I don’t speak of sparrows
Or bright summer days
I am silent by day
And active at night
I come alive in the flicker of candlelight
I write for the folks who are dying inside
The ones with hot salty tears in their eyes
The ones they so desperately try to hide
I write words for the souls who love too hard
Who feel too much
Who give their all on a hunch
The ones who believe in this thing called love
Though they are sad and brokenhearted
I am the maiden
Sent here to serve
I am the lion
Protecting my herd
I am the scorpion
Well acquainted with pain
And the will of a goat runs through my veins
Astrological? yes
But no less real
The way I am wired
I am here to heal
Unafraid of the shadows
I walk in the dark
And bring to light the hidden things
I wasn’t called to paint flowers with words
I am a voice for those who aren’t heard
I write out the thoughts we’re afraid to see
And of things felt secretly

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