Today I am a leader,

An independent,

A scholar.


Yesterday I was shy.


And a follower.


Today I speak in front of large crowds,

Rooms of people,

With self-confidence.


If this was yesterday,

I would have hid in a shroud

Of self-consciousness.


Without the written word,

I would be a shadow,

Empty and hollow.


When I was young,


My words never flowed from the mouth,

Only in black lines of ink over and over again.

I was never blessed with a silver tongue,

Only a golden pen.


Thoughts circled in my head,

I had to let them out

Before I dropped dead.


On paper I screamed,

On paper I cried.

On paper I laughed,

And on paper I sighed.


Words were my outlet,

My release,

My exit

from the real world.


It was only a matter of time,


Until reality caught up to rhyme.


What can I do in life,

If I can't speak,

Not even mime?


I could stay quiet,

Or I could speak my mind.

I could stay silent,

Or take that leap of faith,

Completely blind.


Yesterday I made a choice.

To go forth and educate myself,

To find my voice.


Today I choose to write,

Because without it I am silent.

My writing is my voice.



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