Why do I write?

As water cleans
the words that I type
take all the feelings with them,
like a stream of pain
that flows from my fingers
to the world.

Sometimes they are calm,
a sun ray is reflected on them
and I breath quietly and smile
while my fingers type.
But most of the times
they are conflicted,
chaos, shame, guilt, longing,
like a heavy rain
that makes the water muddy,
they flow through my eyes
as tears
to clean the imaginary and the real sins
of my body.

I write as a baptism,
a commitment to honor the picture of my soul,
instead of molding it
I write.



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