Syllables

Years ago....

Words would traffic jam within
The darkest of corners in my mind.

Writing became my anti-depressant
Cigarettes; my dancing partner.

Poetry exposed my insecurities
Naked, unable to run from demons
That haunted me.

As medication became routine
Alley ways and highways
Allowed me to abandon my pen.

But those creative chirps
Wing flapping syllables,
They still have a song

To be sung.

So I write
Again.