My own way.

I don't remember my first, my first poem. I don't think I even knew, what I was trying to do. When I had that pen, that pen in my hand. It didn't take long to understand. I felt my emotions rush the page. No one ever taught me, taught me the ways. No one gave me the key, the key words to say. I write with my emotions. I give the page my devotion. I write to maybe, maybe inspire someone. My words may not make, make sense to all. My words might, might make tears fall. The point is this. If you leave the page bare, your emotions could be anywhere. Waiting for the shift. The way I feel. The way I am. Helps me write. It's not all black and white. My poems, don't follow rules. My poems, are still true. Words. That's all it is. Words. That's all it ever will be. Emotions. That's what makes a poem. Emotions. That's where we all relate. I will always write, write in my own way. I will always write, write until my last day.