Writing

I sit here in silence
Nothing more than the white noise
That always seems to soothe me
Thinking back on the days where I would sit and type away
My thoughts and the stories that would come to life
Wanting to make more of them
But not knowing where to start
Writing is more than just a part of me
More of a free therapy
Lord knows I need
Knowing more of a matter of anyone else understanding how I am
Is not existent
But he does know
You say it's possible if one knows that more can too
Yes, and then no
Because they don't know all of what I have been through
Not even me
There are memories that have faded to black that I can still feel the pain from
That's the thing though
They're there, but I choose to not to remember them anymore