The Writer

Creative is the label they hang around my neck. Born with the words in my soul, the story to tell. Turmoil, confusion, unsettled questions; my life is a wreck. Let it go, put pen to paper, then all will be well. Lonewolf I shall be until the story is all told. Thoughts meandering in and out as meager as they be. Some do not understand this need to write,and call me bold. Philosophy, life, the "what-ifs" make up the essential me. Silent for far too long, now I speak; the story all told. Write the story,put the pen to paper, now my heart is free. Written December 25th, 2001 © on Dec 25 2001 02:22 PM PST   0 • 10