I open my mouth to speak

But the words stick to my throat.

My mind wills me to say something

But my voice is lost in the roar of the crowd.

It is then that I pick up a pen,

The air between the pen and the paper a dam

holding back the river of words contained in the flow of black ink.

The tip of the pen touches the paper

And the dam breaks.

Tears, screams, joyful cries,

All fill the pages

For the world to read

To react, to think, to understand.