I have a story to tell
I will continue to bleed into my pen-
My story.
My blood-
is my ink.
My paper-
is my canvas.
I paint my own picture of this life.
From my point of view.
My own interpretation.
I paint my landscapes with blue skies
And some would look at that same sky and say...
it’s NOT blue!
What logic, if any are they using to determine this?
Why don’t they believe me?
Why do they disregard me?
I have the receipts.
It says right there “blue paint”
The color is clear.
The color...
is
clear-I was there.
I’m telling my truth.
You’re getting it from the source.
My voice, I found and I will use it to the fullest extent.
I can’t spare your feelings when you don’t think to spare mine.
Not anymore!
These eggshells that I’ve been walking upon around you I now noticed was broken glass...
That’s why I’m always bleeding!
So I will pen my story.
Her-story.
While making His-tory.....
Feelings are not facts.
This story ain’t over yet
until I say...
“The
end.”
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