The Key To My Life

What if everything I imagined was more than a dream?
If metaphors meant to you, exactly what they mean to me,
And I know it's hard to believe, and I don't expect you to see,
That when I'm not scribbling on a paper, I feel like my life's on leash

But at least, just understand that all these words that I write,
Come straight from the heart, it's like I'm writing my life,
But this paper cannot withstand, standing under that light,
If I cover it with shade, the sun would still be to bright

But the only thing that matters, is that you learn to believe,
that what I write is my life, and it's the blood that I bleed,
My whole life I've been writing, taking in what I see,
I've adapted to heartache, coldblooded is what I've come to be

No need to go in depth, this stream is to deep to swim
You might get lost if I open the door to my life and let you in,
so for now I'll keep the key underneath the rhymes hidden,
You'll have to learn to read between the lines to get in
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

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March 14, 2013 at 12:35 AM
Aaron, I sincerely hope you do not stop writing! You have so much talent and insight, far wiser than your years! It's deep and personal writing and the kind of which I find most moving. I got the writing bug at thirteen, but I wasn't any good until about fifteen. But I must say if this is the extent of you're writing NOW, I can only imagine what you'll be like when you're an adult.
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