Something Worth Saying

Each time I write,
I hope I fit together,
Something worth saying.
Often times what I jot down,
Means little to nothing,
To no one but me.
I impress myself,
With clever one liners,
Or rhyme together words,
That meant something to me as a youth,
Taking phrases I heard,
Or stories I remember,
And plying them like putty,
Until they seem like something memorable.
Until they feel like something repeatable.
Until I am able to coax together enough prose to hope,
That someone might just be inspired,
By some silly thing,
That I thought to say.
The value is,
That once in a while,
I do think I find the right words,
At the right time,
With the right amount of inspiration,
To make a difference.
To change an opinion.
Motivate a soul.
Or simply express my most complex thoughts,
Into a few lines on a blank page,
So that I can share my love,
In the only way I have,
That doesn’t make me uncomfortable.
I write to express myself,
To tell stories,
To bleed my feelings onto paper,
Courtesy of my scalpel like pen,
Razor sharp wit,
And a desire to never have to cut myself,
Like so many people do nowadays.
Because they need to feel alive.
Or need to feel like dying.
I share my poems for myself,
And for you,
And for anyone else who needs to take a minute,
Remove themselves from whatever hardship they have,
And hopefully enjoy something worth listening to.
Not every poem,
Not every time,
Will mean something,
To someone.
I’m certain there are someones,
Who will never be touched,
By my attempt to connect with them,
And that’s fine.
Because I have faith,
That at least one someone,
Will take away something I say,
And be all the happier for it.