The words.
They flow from my mind to my fingertips.
The freedom, the relief, the comfort;
I release the thoughts that have longed to get out
Of my mouth, into ears, but no way have they found.
They scream in my head, as they push for escape,
But I can’t risk the judgment those words might take.
So I curl up inside and keep to myself,
Never letting a single word out.
The mocking, the judging, the laughing I’ll face,
With my fragile mind, I could not take.
So instead I just let it all out on paper.
In ink, in pencil; it all doesn’t matter.
The computer or paper; they’re still just the same.
Those words I’ve so long kept in, now come out.
Rushing along to be read, to be heard.
My thoughts become writing,
And my writing finally become words.