A song.
A word.
A thought.
A feeling.
Burning.
Churning.
Deep inside.

It breaks free,
It goes out,
It lets out.
It's out to the world,
To feel and observe.

I choose to let you love
The very essence of who I am
Or to hate it all the same.
I don't care, anyhow.

I'm an expressionist.
And express I must.