What makes my quaking voice different,
I can’t speak in front of people;
Rather, I choose to draw and paint and write,
Exactly how I feel.
The words, they escape me,
Unless I have a pen and paper;
Because articulating is so scary,
Yet, bold expression is so daring.
I’m talkative on paper,
I’m expressive with a brush;
Because words always seem to escape me,
In that moment I open my mouth.