You ask why i write/ I don't just write/ I speak on paper/I let my pencil be the tongue/ And I let the paper be the mouth/ Saying what i may not always have the courage to/ I let these words spill out almost as if natuarl/ I speak what ways heavy on my soul/ sort of like the heavyness of my hand on this pencil/ My poems speak for me/ Like a ventriloquist to a puppet/ I have hope that maybe one day my poems will be heard/ I hope that my voice wont be over powered by the fear of judgment/ And i hope that This poem will explain to you Why I Speak.


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