Why I Write To tell you the truth I don't know I use my words like an antidote To spare me from this poisonous world I'm lost here, confused How can I even speak of the world? I'm 16, still learning myself But what I do know isn't pretty My only friends are my hands And the words woven wistfully Silently pleading for someone to listen My heart is heavy with tragedy War, hunger, disaster, prejudice The four horsemen of agony And agony has swallowed this world Some days I feel it swallowing me But my words are my escape I write to save myself I write to stay alive ~CQ
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