Poem – Your Writing Speaks For Itself

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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