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Description
Sitting in the back of the room
Being absolutely silent, almost invisible.
Speaking only when spoken to,
Unable to start clever conversation.

You can see me,
But you don't really see me
"Quiet, shy, straight-A student."
But I'm so much more on the inside.
You don't really know me.

With this pen in my hand
My emotions are released to the world
At neck-breaking speed.
When my lips seice to communicate my soul
Through vocal sounds called "talking",
My pen shouts it out
Through dripping ink called "poetry".

Beautiful, sweet poetry,
My safe haven for escape.
Able to be criticized, but unable to be crushed.
If only my words of ink could become vocal
And scribe words into oxygen parchment.
I'd be swimming aimlessly
In an endless sea of conversation
With plenty of fish to befriend.
But then, what would I do
With this pen and paper?

1/08/09

Description
Sitting in the back of the room
Being absolutely silent, almost invisible.
Speaking only when spoken to,
Unable to start clever conversation.

You can see me,
But you don't really see me
"Quiet, shy, straight-A student."
But I'm so much more on the inside.
You don't really know me.

With this pen in my hand
My emotions are released to the world
At neck-breaking speed.
When my lips seice to communicate my soul
Through vocal sounds called "talking",
My pen shouts it out
Through dripping ink called "poetry".

Beautiful, sweet poetry,
My safe haven for escape.
Able to be criticized, but unable to be crushed.
If only my words of ink could become vocal
And scribe words into oxygen parchment.
I'd be swimming aimlessly
In an endless sea of conversation
With plenty of fish to befriend.
But then, what would I do
With this pen and paper?

1/08/09