When things get tough and I don't know what to do 

I pick up a piece of paper and a pen, too

My thoughts and feelings glide across the page as my pen does,

Others say talk it out, but I know that I must

Write until I can't write anymore

Why don't you take a tour?

With me, through my mind of things never said

The things my heart has said to my head

But have never come to pass, because I wouldn't allow

it to be manifested to a place where others wonder how

I am a mystery as I hide behind this poem

but I've realized as I've gotten older, that writing poems is my home

to exhale and breathe, as others see  me

as an introvert that doesn't like to speak

on issues that affect me as a friend, a teammate, daughter, and more

No one will ever see my inner core

but through my poems, one will see

that I am imperfectly me.