Writing

In wrapping your arms around someone,

you're getting a hug, too.

In giving someone else advice,

you're telling yourself what you need to hear.

In writing someone a story or a poem,

Hope is the thing that boils my blood when I see injustice in the world

Hope is the thing that keeps me up at night scratching at the innards of my body 

Because it craves to be free

I shut down a lot

I don’t know why I do it.

I can’t control it,

but for some reason

the voice inside my head

says it is because I am

attention seeking.

I know I am not.

it started as nothing

just another day

just another you

then something shifted

so small i almost missed it

like a breath held too long

now everything feels louder

the way you laugh

I'm not a girl

I'm not a girl

I'm not a girl

I'm a boy

I'm a boy

I'm a boy

I'm not a beast 

I'm not a threat

I'm not a monster

I'm a kid

The smell of books

Is something that AI can't replace

It's comforting to curl up with a book

On a cold winter day

Or any day

And the smell of the pages

Completes the scene