Like an old friend, my pen doesn't need me to edit my feelings as they leave my heart and find their way down to my hand. It make not a sound, no snicker, no judgment of the words or the way I arrange them to expess my creativity, my anger, or my deepfelt need to help when help is the farthest thing from all the rools I can call to my command.
Like an old friend, my pen awaits me. I write my name and I stare at it.
It holds my secrets safe. I hold it in my hand.
--me strauss Letting me be