I write for Myself,
My life is my own.
Even things that I write,
Are hardly yours to bemoan.

I write what I feel like writing,
It comes from the Heart,
And if you can't accept it,
Then get your eyes off my Art.

I write what I think,
What I feel, taste and see.
To help kill Depression,
Who once tried to kill me.

I write for the silent,
With feelings unexpressed.
I write to remind you,
I know why you're depressed.

I write to inform you,
How they feel, give them hope.
That someone understands them,
And thinks it no joke.

I write for the World,
For those need understand,
That Compassion and Acceptance,
Are not contraband.

I write for the Reader,
And I pray for You too.
That Life doesn't sour you,
Like it's done to this Fool.

I don't write sunshine or daisies,
Cause that's not what Life is,
I write about people, emotions,
And Love's first and last kiss.

I write cause I'm Me,
And I'm Me in that way.
It's my Passion and Purpose,
That keeps me going on each day.

I write not to fertilize,
The lush gossip vine.
Where they stab me in the back,
As they 'chat' while they dine.

I hate that You gossip,
That You diss Me behind my back,
That what I do is misintepreted,
And You focus on what I lack.

I wish You stop assuming,
Stop accusing Me please,
The dumb things They tell,
Are merely Lies with short lease.

But You still you don't listen,
So I wrote this Confession,
One day you'll Read it,
But I claim that with...