Today a most peculiar day.
All was in an orderly way.
Every kid was sorted in a row.
All was neat and tidied with a bow.
And when was asked to write down our name.
All pens moved inmedeatly the same.
There were names in purple, pink, red and blue,
But my pitch black ink pen just didn't do.
Everybody looks at me and frowns.
I felt an idiot, and they all looked like clowns.
The worst part was the unwanted pity.
As if I've been through the worst in this city.
For my ink wrote words as black as my soul.
The words to never be read at all.
My name as dark as a beetle eye.
For I still don't know,... Who am I?
But every word I wrote down on my sheet.
And every time my name was written so neat.
My pen would lose it's ink more and more.
And the darkness would seize, dry and sore.
And that is how my inner colour shone.
As every letter left my comfort zone.
My silver words now burst with light.
To think they used to be as dark as night.
Write your pain away.
But allow your ink to stay.
For we grow and we learn.
With every feelings that burn.
The intense feeling of freedom when writing how you feel. Knowing, no one can judge you for who you are on the inside.