Today I am a leader,

An independent,

A scholar.

 

Yesterday I was shy.

Timid,

And a follower.

 

Today I speak in front of large crowds,

Rooms of people,

With self-confidence.

 

If this was yesterday,

I would have hid in a shroud

Of self-consciousness.

 

Without the written word,

I would be a shadow,

Empty and hollow.

 

When I was young,

 

My words never flowed from the mouth,

Only in black lines of ink over and over again.

I was never blessed with a silver tongue,

Only a golden pen.

 

Thoughts circled in my head,

I had to let them out

Before I dropped dead.

 

On paper I screamed,

On paper I cried.

On paper I laughed,

And on paper I sighed.

 

Words were my outlet,

My release,

My exit

from the real world.

 

It was only a matter of time,

Though,

Until reality caught up to rhyme.

 

What can I do in life,

If I can't speak,

Not even mime?

 

I could stay quiet,

Or I could speak my mind.

I could stay silent,

Or take that leap of faith,

Completely blind.

 

Yesterday I made a choice.

To go forth and educate myself,

To find my voice.

 

Today I choose to write,

Because without it I am silent.

My writing is my voice.