Catharsis

Cathartic; dimly lit rooms

That I belong to,

Watching flames dance as I used to do.

It feels my whole life is a movie,

I forgot to play;

Too distracted to look up from my pen and page.

Writing it out so clearly,

Through lines of ink.

Living in my head; Tell me what do you think?

Sometimes I think of my own death,

And all that would be said, on the open casket day;

Tell me what would you say?

Would you talk about how brave I’d been,

Facing each and every day.

Or call me a coward to have gone away — so soon.

Drifting or floating,

I let the ocean of eternity hold me.

Sometimes I let my emotions control me,

But I’ve tried hard lately,

Not to be so, dismayed. One could say.

Catharsis would have been the end of me,

If only this pen and paper hadn’t helped me feel so safe.