Kristen Sublette

Its in the quiet hours of the night

when my creativity sparks to life.

I feel i there, click into place,

I’m lost in my musings

a safe space.

Is there a point or is it pointless?

Scribbling words and pictures

that will never surface.

Do I do this for the love or the need?

Its anyones guess…

Depriving me a pen only makes me soulless.

It used to be pain

sadness

a knife

Now its expression

my voice

life.

Words come to me,

they flow,

I have to write them

Quick, Quick.

But I question if I’m good enough

to actually make them stick.

Am I really a creative,

an artist

or just a phony, a fraud?