Why must I write?
When there's so much better,
Prose, poetry, free styling words,
So much more elaborate,
So beautifully knit together,
While I create patchworks of rhymes, and reason,
This silence would ****,
This inability to express to people,
Because paper patiently listens,
Because this desire-less life feels a little lived when pen meets paper,
But I don't write in ink,
Charcoal let's me rethink,
Who knows what's going to happen next,
And if you did, what would you really do differently?
Can you escape yourself?
Wherever you go, there you are

You made it
onto my paper
from
in between my ribs
to
in between my lines
&
all I can do
is sharpen my pencil
every time
I reach the end
of each stanza

In the twenty first century
Where we have been the most advanced we have ever been
Where we have central heating
Air conditioning
Online shopping
Open heart
And laser eye surgery
Never has the goal of a happy and pleasant life drifted further away
Than it has today
We have been taught how to fly high in the sky like a plane
How to dive deep in the ocean like a fish
But how to walk on this earth
As a happy and content being
Some of us, we still struggle
We can contact people on the other side of the world
But we can't connect with our soul
We search for peace
Swallowing pills to seal the cracks in our heart
To cover fear, loneliness and anxiety
Oh you who wander
Life is a drink of salty water
You are drinking for a thirst that never quenches
A hunger that never fills
On this path
Pain becomes unbearable
Calamities become intolerable
A search for peace of mind
The ability to sleep at night
Your chest will only become tighter
The dark will become darker
Until you realise
That the pieces of our heart can only be put together
When we have gratitude during times of ease
And patience during times of difficulty