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The Power Of Voice And Self-Expression Poem By: Pablo Sandoval III Express Yoself…
. . . right away, you’ll see it’s difficult to find: (That -- while it’s true, it’s only You able to see inside your, Mind, -- ) Lost thoughts often become begotten
The poetry I so intensely write Is not only in black and white, There are some shades of gray, booby traps and a crooked way. It’s a door to my heart, A window to my mind,
You push me to follow what you believe in When you ask me for my own views I am scorned if I answer truthfully. Because when you asked me about my views it was not for your curiosity,
First of the five is where Freedom hides, It’s wild winds the source of the spark in our lives, With unruly nature does this one exist,
Self-expression is something that has always been difficult for me. I never know the right words to say so others can truly see the troubles that I face and the emotions that I feel.
I am a dandelion Wild and free Not to be noticed upon first glance; It seems I lack the chance To belong in a boquet They look on in disgust With selfish and hating eyes
The confined girl finally liberating through the fields her bright smile shining in the distant, the words her mouth shields her soul was chipping away as she lost herself in the panorama
i can do itis what i used to believegoing on andpushing forward was a possibilitybut then i lookedin the mirrori see myselfbut i’m notwhere i wanna bestuck in contrast
You'll sit on a friend's chair, hands fumbling in your lap as bright red tresses float down Like leaves in autumn. When you look in the mirror you might skim a hand over your head,
I wonder how long we hold feud To what is red and what is blue Yet our eight legged branch can't walk On a single file ant line to the booth For the new insect order say to be behind the head
any attempt to useone word to describe mewould be as hopeless asfinding a waterfall in a desertalthough if i was to truly tryi think i'd start withdynamicwith a tendency to connect
What am I I am free I am strong and I am me I have let my burdens slip away through my written words They flew away on swift wings taken by the flock of birds
Dark eyes, dark hair; The spitting image of Dad. Grandpa jokingly says, "Maybe you'll grow out of it." Just maybe. But I'll always be a daddy's girl. Pick a spot Pick an experiment
I learned long ago how to be strong; to hide my fragile heart.No one knew all the while, I was broken from the start.
I say I’m a writer, but how would they know When each line and verse I’ll never show? Each word loops endlessly through my head a catchy tune, not sung but said Still, the words can’t leave my mouth
Unfamiliarity breeding insecurity, look through the window of Society and tell me what you see. Lowered moral values, high expectations of success, a web of double-standards,
I’ve realized something about myself, I’ve realized fear…… I swim because I’m afraid to drown, Climb the tallest mountains because I’m afraid of the height, Skydive because I’m afraid of the fall,
If I could change the world,I'd make creativity powerful.I'd make it so I would look outside with a smile,Not an unwillingness to face the coming day.
A masterpiece was promised, A carving out of words, To stand, eloquent, elegant Child of talent, effort, ripped-up sheets, The first of many, Essay-sculpture, And I, Author-carver.
Free Free country, they say. But really? To conform To think the same To act the same Based on a "correct system"... But really? Where's the freedom To be an individual?
The classroom is my dungeon Cold, stark, and bleak. The desk is my cage Restraining my mind’s reach. I’m drawn away from creativity Herded by the group Who are too slow to move on
I have fought to become the handsome man I am today, This uniform policy just teaches "what I am is not okay". Being able to wear fashion is more than just looking cool,
Colors, like features, they follow the changes of emotions, they can even have a universal meaning. So color me blue; nowadays I feel sad that I can't express myself to others like
The words that I will say They all must sound cliché But they do not lose truth or ever become passé My words they do convey A message that's been delayed For spoken word still leaves a whole
What are the clothes we wear in our minds? Silk and fine fabrics? No, there’s no money for such fabulous finds. Do we wear clothes made out of love? Knitted and warm that will never unbind? Sadly, no.
let me try let me try on a new life i am alone here surrounded by the dark. let me have a new face new body new skin new heart. let me try to escape
I am a longing for summer, A sea breeze in a mountain town. Hoofbeats on pavement, A misfit wherever I go, Yet somehow, I belong. I am nowhere. Stay nowhere.
They say birds of a feather flock together. But maybe that’s why I feel under the weather. With my body tethered to this world I sought a way to be liberated.
A creative child Driven wild By one’s own imagination Thoughts abound Running around Dreaming of creation No one knows A story untold Of one’s pent up emotions
Put your pen down on the paper Let the thoughts flow like a river Let the words go on forever Make your feelings known to the world. Let the rain come down upon you
Ink, thick in the air wafts a seductive tale of permanence. The room is abuzz with anticipation and cat-scratch pain. The prick, the squeal of newly minted adults
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Come to my sacred island where nothing matters where mom and dad do not hold sway and me and you can be bad if we need to we can be naked and destroy the walls and I can hunt sea creatures to roast on a fire
My soul doth roar! But where do I turn? I speak but words do flee me. I sing but my voice runs quiet. My soul doth roar! I dance but my feet lose their way. I strum music but the notes abandon me.
I belong to a world of black and white, where even the darkest things come to light, I belong to a world of piles of books, where a character’s heart means more than looks, I belong to a world where words blend,