I am Nothing but a child.

I am Unworthy to be heard.

The adults, they scream

words

be Quiet

Fix your hair

Know the,

Time,

Place.

When finding my voice I had to hide in my room with

only the comfort of my tie-dye wall paper and earthquake- causing music to

welcome my creativity.

Even then my words were Broken

Unworty,

Forgotten.

Only after my friends called me home,

called me to my true reality of crazy ceepy creativity

did I find my words.

My words awoke in me with witty waves of

Power.

My words fought for their place in the world.

What master of creativity,

would I,

become if I,

Stiffled,

this