I spread my heart out on a piece of paper and invited the world to observe its structure, feel its texture and hear the stories that produced its beat.
Inside the deep corners of my mind I discovered that my thoughts had souls. I stared at each and every one fearlessly; before I knew it I was playing with angels and fighting with the demons.
I jumped into the seat of my imagination and went around the world painting vivid colours that left the brightest rainbow envious; she put her pride at risk when she begged me to teach her. Her plea was as sincere as the dream that had given me wings.
I prepared a feast of words before they pushed their plates away saying they couldn’t relate. I understood the misunderstanding and embraced the residue of its education.
Through catchy rhymes and cute alliterations I dived into the most shallow part of my creative pool and got hurt. After drying the wetness behind my ears the journey continued.
The encouraging messages had eyes in which I saw sparkling reflections of myself, I realised that strangers can be soulmates too.
My ink was only ever black in the beginning, towards the end it always turned red.
I did not pick up the pen to simply write,
I picked it up because I longed to bleed.
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