My words

My words, flowing from my soul, written in the blood of so many before me.

My words, the heartbeat of my existence, written in the tears of my childhood.

My words, the sole purpose of my being, written in the sweat of my labor.

My words keep my restless mind at ease. Keep my heart locked away. Keep my shattered dreams alive.

My words, the only thing I have. The only thing I need. The one thing I can't live without.

My words mean nothing. My words are merely words. Words to evoke, to vent, to feel. To feel something. Anything.

What do I do when my words aren't enough?