Words Worth (poem)
(“The Lakes” by Taylor Swift was used for inspiration)
I think I’m ahead of my time.
Yes, Danielle, let’s start off with that striking arrogance, shall we?
Not exactly, I mean it sounds that way, but at least let me explain my statement.
Words excite me.
Words make me think.
Words let me express myself in ways I never saw possible.
A lot of people don’t take the time in their life to pause and reflect on their mental state or maybe even just capture a memory in 500 words or less.
Unrelated to this piece, but I hate word limits. There is no set word limit to express how someone feels about a force that is affecting them. There is no word limit to talk about your deepest fears and self realizations.
Okay, maybe it is relevant.
I’m not quite built mentally for modern life. I like prose and poets who tried to capture a glimpse of their mindset. I like stories that make me think about imagery and themes. I like capturing simplicity, but describing it with great vivacity and detail.
I’m a literary fire with a pen.
Inspiration strikes me and it takes form in the center of my mind. Words are all I think about.
Words capture my essence.
My works and thoughts eulogize me in a way. Like I feel as if a part of me is trapped in every individual piece. That could explain how dedicated I am to my passion and drive for literature and writing. I haven’t felt as open to that in the later years of my life, but recently it’s all I do.
My mind is calamitous and full of thoughts and ideas I cannot even articulate. I wish I could sometimes, just for a single moment, give you a glimpse. Let the world stop for one moment to give you a second to witness the texts in my head.
My eulogies provide me a sense of peace that I can’t seem to recognize anywhere else. It’s different from the peace my friends provide me.
I plan to spend my life figuring out why I write like this. I plan to leave a legacy of words that goes on for centuries after I’m gone. I plan to spend my life wondering what my words are worth to others, to my closest friends, to my family, and to myself.
My words will carry the weight I always intended them to have. Maybe with time that weight could be lifted off of someone else.
Just take me to the state of mind the incredible poets and authors of our time were at upon their death. Take me to that level of inspiration. Take me to the place where the poets went to die.
Bring my inspirations and muses with me. My people. My songs. My words.
Fuel the fire of my mind and heart. Fuel my drive to write more for you. Give me the guidance I need to find my niche in the writing world. Let me join the great writers of our world. Let me find their sense of understanding.
If a tree falls in a forest, is it still heard?
If I write hours upon end, do my words carry worth?
Worth is in the eyes of the beholder I suppose, but what if I’m not the beholder? My pieces have worth to me, but what about to others? What is this for me if I can’t share my love of words with someone else?
So I send some of it to them--not all of it, but some of it. I share what I feel is relevant. I share what I feel they need to hear. It may look like I’m only focusing on myself in a lot of my pieces, but it’s bigger than that. My words are bigger than that.
Writing held me when I needed it most.
I think I’m ahead of my time.