As a lone sojourner on the path of life
I have a numbing silence within me,
so much to say but no ear to whisper into
like the little lonely bird
which sings madrigals in the forest
calling on trees to listen at least for once
bu they (trees) keep humming their own tune
so I talk to myself and for myself,
sing to myself and for myself,
I write for myself and my kind
I write soothing verses-a remedy for excruciating pain
in no time at all
my pain is washed away
by the rain,
rain of cathartic verses
I draw for myself from nothing
I paint a portrait of me,
I display the struggles and bitter wars
from within and without
I weave convoluted metaphors
to shield my anger
with a pen and pad
to exorcise bitterness from my mind
I'm a writer
I record the outpouring of my soul
