As I let out my rage on this paper, I close my eyes and dream of peace.
I allow thoughts from the past flow out of me.
I let go of tension as stress becomes free.
As I let out my rage on this paper,
I become who I'm meant to be.

Many will ask what the paper has caused me,
And I will answer nothing but freedom.
They will not understand those things
And I will have to explain them.
The paper is merely a blank canvas awaiting a muse.
What we place on each page was already there.
The lines we see are not ours but another's,
Who's life story we are all told.

As I let out my rage on this paper,
I close my eyes and begin to think.
I allow my mind to wander without guidance from me.
I let go of the past and depression becomes free.
As I let out my rage on this paper,
I become who I'm meant to be.

Do you know that this paper was once a tree?
I will answer yes when they ask me.
As a tree, it too had a dream of peace,
But your anger has made it bear shame.
My anger, I will say, was a blessing on this page.
It is an instrument of are awaiting the paint.
What I have done to this page has not brought it shame;
Rather, it has helped me set my mind straight.

As I let out my rage on this paper,
I close my eyes and give a silent thanks.
I thank the tree who gave this paper to me.
I thank the paper for helping pain become free.
As I let out my rage on this paper,
I become who I'm meant to be.

I ask you now, all who read,
Do you let out your rage on a single sheet?
Do you allow rage to flow out and become free?
Do you treat your paper with the respect it needs?
A piece of paper is more than a tool:
It is a friend when friends don't find you cool.
A page is a counselor who guides you to peace.
This page helped me to become my best.

As I let out my rage on this paper,
I close my eyes and think of that day.
I try to remember the page who helped me.
I try to recall everything it set free.
As I let out my rage on this paper,
I become who I'm meant to be.