I have a soft voice. I am rarely called upon.
But my thoughts scream so loud
And my eyes hold back tears
And I breathe breaths so ragged
They tear at my lungs.
And I have a soft voice.
I have gentle hands. They lay peacful at my sides.
But so often they cling to my chest
And grasp at the truth
When I see injustice
And I have gentle hands.
I have a soft step. Strangers do not look up as I pass by.
But I will burst forth with all my might
When it is my turn to inspire the world,
And I have a soft step.
I have a loving heart. It beats quietly.
But I am torn with anger at those who wrong me
I will not be warm in the face of the wicked,
I will not shy from a battle.
And I have a loving heart.
I am a poet.
But I will not fill a stanza with meaningless rhymes
And I will not simply speak of love
As if injustice does not exist.
I will protest those who hold me back.
My words will not live on paper.
And I am a poet.