Never good with speaking, but always great with writing.
Repressing what could not be said.
Feeling alone and misunderstood.
Trying to cover wounds that are never healing but expanding.
These are the reasons I write.
I may have a voice, but my heart is what gives my words meaning and power.
My heart is what allows me to put pen to paper and express what my voice is too weak to say.
My heart beats for the words and feelings that are being written.
Not caring if anyone does not understand because I know I do.
All that matters is that I have a way for my heart to speak.
My heart is heard when the words are painted on paper.
With my pen gliding across the paper, I feel as if a masterpiece is being painted with my heart as the artist.
My heart does not have a voice, but she gives me the inspiration and courage to write out what she’s feeling.
To cry out the tears she cannot physically cry.
To scream the words that she cannot physically scream out.
To express the anger that builds inside and destroys her.
My heart, just like everyone on Earth, has a right to be heard when she speaks.
But, because she cannot physically speak, she gives me the words to write out what it is she wants to say.
I write for her to be heard.
I write for her inability to speak.
I write so others can understand what she is speaking.
I write so that she has the ability to take advantage of the same rights that everyone else has.
She wants to be heard.
She wants to speak.
So I write, so that she can.