When I write for me
It all flows like a river
Down the side of a hill
When I write for them
It comes out jagged and sharp
Like the rocks at the bottom of the river
When I write for me
I feel my heart pulsate through my fingertips
Leaving a bit of me in each letter
When I write for them
I let go a piece of me
That was never meant to break off
When I write for me
I feel like I am a bird
Soaring above the storm
When I write for them
I feel like the storm is pushing me
Down to Earth in giant rain puddles
When I write for me
It is genuine and true
Just like the morning sunrise over the frost
When I write for them
It is as if my hands have their own conscience
For I could not write that way on my own
When I write for me
I feel whole again
From all of the times I wrote for them
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