An Old Poem of Mine

I've been going through all my files on my back up drive today (Jason had to reload my computer a while ago and I'm just getting to going through all the stuff!) and I found a poem that I had to write in a Lit class in high school.  I loved this particular class as the teacher was so different from all the other English teachers we had and I was a sophomore in a junior class too.  I was so shy at the time and I remember being very nervous having to get up in front of the class to read my poem in front all these kids that I didn't know, I still hate group speaking to this day!  Enough babbling, here is the poem....

I Am...

I  am  a  writer  of  life.

To  impose  perplexity  of  words

On  delicate  white  paper

Like  to  show  the  cold,  black,  dreary

Elements  of  life

Hidden  in  words.

As  an  innocent  child

I  wrote  with  crayons.

Like  me  they  were  naive

I  would  write  with  big ,  harsh  letters

My  lines  would  never  be  straight

My  words  saying  what  they  meant

My  mind  untainted ;

Words  of  happiness.

A  little  older  now, I  write  with  ink

Knowing  that  not  every  word  has  to  be

          Of  happiness,

And  that  I  am  not  so  innocent  to  life

           Anymore,

And  that  my  writing  doesn't  have  to  say

           What  it  means.

I  no  longer  write  in  big , harsh  letters

Words  gently  laid  upon  the  paper.

My  writing  has  changed

And  I  have  changed.

I  will  write  until  my  words  no

     longer  make  sense -

The  day  when  my  ashes  mix  with the  land.