I open my mouth to speak
But the words stick to my throat.
My mind wills me to say something
But my voice is lost in the roar of the crowd.
It is then that I pick up a pen,
The air between the pen and the paper a dam
holding back the river of words contained in the flow of black ink.
The tip of the pen touches the paper
And the dam breaks.
Tears, screams, joyful cries,
All fill the pages
For the world to read
To react, to think, to understand.