I Never Chose To Be A Poet

I never chose to be a poet..
My mind bleeds words and the papers loves to soak in the ink of my thoughts.
It's a beautiful condition
Not a choice
Penned words
Without voice
Release of pain
To love again and again
In the early morning hours
Minds ceaseless thoughts
Expressions of many emotions
Sorted
Poetry is brought
Once sought to free myself of once thought curse.
Prose bleed verse after verse.
Learning to love thyself
Sharing to the world
Instead of dusted written words stored upon some shelf.
Take a peek
Have a gander
Some relate
Others just meander
There's those that appreciate
Then those that will never relate.
All in all
I never chose to be a poet
The paper soaks my thoughts
As blood spilled ink.

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2019 All rights reserved. All materials contained are not to be used/ reproduced/ copied/ edited/ published/ transmitted/ borrowed/ duplicated/ printed/ downloaded/ uploaded in any way without my express written permission. Feel free to contact me if you so wish to use my work.