The younger me once paused and asked,
How words can break one\'s heart.
I smiled then held her hand and said that Poetry is art.
The paper is your canvas,
You can paint with blood or red.
You could make the people stop and smile,
Or fill their hearts with dread .
She picked up all my notebooks,
Flipped and flipped until the end.
She stood and stared at pages
while her mind started to bend.
\"Do I write this in the future?\"
I say words are all your friends
You see, writing is an outlet,
Where the thoughts all find a home,
And the questions could stop running,
Since they\'re all engraved in stone.
You could write and write till sunrise,
You could type them on your phone,
And the best thing all about it,
Is that words are yours alone.
You could be the princess
Trapped behind the concrete walls.
The worlds you hold inside of you
Are the stories\' distant calls
She held the pen and paper,
Painted strokes across it all
And this time her world was magic,
Where each story stood up tall.