My Hearts Console.

Once again I hold this pen in my hand,
I am beginning to think this paper actually understands.
Not I: Nor you: Just the paper that stares at me.

Words are written, sentences now formed.
No telling what may be said: now for warned.
Tell me you are here; My soul is pleading.

Words come alive, and dance across the page.
Emotions set free; I am no longer in rage.
Not really thinking, but lost in a thought.

Not even my words make sense;
Just to the paper. It's the only one at my defense.
My hand just keeps moving, when will it stop?

Never. Always will it write.
Takes away my anger, calms nerves, lessens my fright.
You get it right?

Maybe I am crazy, or it's my emotions taking control.
My words they are my hearts console.
So I will write....

[Well..this is strange. I don't know how I came up with this. Lol. I hope you enjoy]