My Voice



The sensation was like lying on the bottom of a pool 


Weightless yet heavy 


A blue blanket wrapping me in eerie silence. 


Someone’s heart pounding inside of my ears, but it couldn’t be mine. 


My heart has shattered into a million shards and stuck into my chest 


Making every breath more difficult, filling up hollow lungs. 


He was gone, but what was I to do? 



I had to do something 




I had to speak out and make my cry louder 


But my mouth opened and released nothing but 




So I picked up my pencil, 


Teeth marks near the eraser from contemplation, 


And simply began. 



That is when I found my voice. 


I have always had a flammable heart, that feels and loves so deeply


A soul that aches for people, things, and times 




I allowed my fiery heart to flow directly from the pencil to the page, allowing sweet, sweet 




Like a musician who creates melodies from silence, 


I too was able to create a masterpiece, simply by filling the blankness


With words I did not know were there. 


I wrote to understand, to clear my crowded mind. 


From the second I shakily grasped that marred, crooked pencil


I found it. 


My purpose 


My passion 


My voice. 

This poem is about: 


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