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

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