A truth

Short poem i wrote for a journal in class

A writer shows his experiences in writing, on paper, on walls, on cement, with chalk, with ink, with lead, with graphite.

A writer bares his soul to the onslaught of humanity and the warmth of nature.

He cares little for his own gain, he just wants his ideas to be known, to be used, to be thought.

He wants his a idea to be raped by others, to be twisted and changed, to be different.

He can’t do it himself so he brings it into the open. A true matyr.