On Writing
In a world where you cannot show your feelings,
surrounded by only white walls and a ceiling.
Pencil to paper, words spilled on the pages,
brings me to a place where time never ages.
The infinite things that I’m allowed to say,
and all the messages I’m able to convey.
An unimaginable power I hold in my hand,
which gives me the ability to make them understand.
This poem is about:
My community