Words.

There’s a reason we all flock to writing fantasies,

Something quite different from our norms.

There’s the people who have been hurt,

And need something to release every pent up emotion,

Tears, and anger, they never got to let out.

The people who wish to escape,

Because this world is so much different from their own,

Yes, here, they have a home.

Those who wish to create,

Because my love?

That mind of yours is stunning,

I don’t need to see your face to know that.

We all write for our own reasons,

And unite with it.

And let me tell you,

I’ll write until my hands hurt,

Until I can’t write no more,

Until my dying days,

And I take my last breath

Because this is me.

Love it, hate it,

I don’t care.

Walk away if you must.

But those who listen to my words, and write their own,

Gather round as we whisper our thoughts and prayers,

And let them miss out,

On our hearts laid bare.