Someone asked, " How do you write? "
I said, "I don't." My heart does.
My mind's a battlefield for words
And when they fight my conscience suffer.
Seeing life evaporates, harsh conditions chew up youngsters and vomits her treasure.
My heart bleeds, my mouths sealed, I'm not a writer but I wish I was. How do I tell the things I see?
I know they should be told for the younger generation to learn but, too bad I am not a writer and I'm prone to forget.
I've seen nature rage Wars against human and brothers struggle over rare resources only to cry over spilled milk.
And mothers stab babies before they were even born for fear of the unknown. I have also seen boys struggle with fatherhood even though they were denied the privilege.
Oh how my heart bleeds for such sad truths. Who will tell these stories? Am I the only one who sees them? If not, why is the cycle not yet broken?
How do I seek help? I can't tell it all, I might forget and I am not a writer so how do I record this?
I need a voice, I need a hand and an ear too.
I may speak but, I need you to listen and maybe they could write. That way, we may get help. Just maybe, someone would help even though I am not a writer.
@Themmywryt
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