I think it started

With a fleeting glance.

I had to capture, somehow,

This moment in time provoking

A fluttering of my heart.

Then it became

My mode of voice,

Of choice.

I had been unheard, unseen, before

But look at me now!

Screaming at nothing and

Pulling romance out of daisies.

All their petals cry "Does not!

Cannot! Will not!"

And so my pen became

My weapon and shield.

A double edged sword

Upon which I could relive

Everything that could not be.