My Script for My goal Podcast

Writing is the skeleton to the world's media.Everything has writing somehow in it. Wether its to inform,persuade, or to entertain writing is everywhere. Writing is one of the most expressionistic things you could ever do. It gives you the chance to get your voice heard or to listen to others. But in all this writing is my way to say things i cant say in person or wont say in person. When i write i feel like another me comes out and takes over. A version of me who says what ever he wants;gets his voice heard no matter what.

However it also brings about the part of me who realizes that life isn't fair, that love is hard to find, your biggest enemy is yourself, and the fact that I can hurt the ones i love without even trying. My writing usually is based on how i feel. I say what I came across during the day or my emotions at the time. Although my writing is educated, and sophisticated I do use my writing abilities for one of the most international, expressive and amazing things in the world..... Music. Music is the one thing that every culture every nation every one loves! I love to write at the top of my head be put on the spot and the art of spit balling. Ever since i was little My mother said i was a quick thinker. That I come up with stories as i'm telling them. I've been writing since I was smaller and I feel i'm actually very talented. I think i can go a long way with my writing and I plan to wait I know i can go somewhere and I will. Here is some of my work.

I still remember at the bus station that day

The day my dad had pushed me away

You said i'll be back with eyes filled of tears

But I didn't know you'd be gone for 3 years

I begged and begged for you not to go

The reason you left I still don't know

You were high on something or probably just drunk

Your sons hopes and dreams shot down and sunk

I recall asking for just one thing

For a hug with my father on his arm I'd cling.

I tried to wrap my arms just once more

Thats when you pushed me down to the floor 

My arm was cut my eyes were red

My heart broken and my love was dead

As the bus left i looked up to no one

That day my dad pushed away his son.

I counted the days as they turned to weeks 

As more tears came and fell down my cheeks.

Now scared and still hurt i'll have to stay 

The day my dad had pushed me away.