I’ve words unwilling to be said

That float about inside my head.

Untamed thoughts and hidden desires,

That burn brighter than all fires.

To speak these thoughts aloud

Only loses my meaning in a cloud.

My pen though, can whisper to the page

And free the words from their cage.

Poetry can triumph where my speech would only fail.

I can tell all to the paper in great detail.

I write for the anger and the sorrow.

I write to feel nothing come tomorrow.

With wild emotions I write

To free the tongue that I must bite.

Love and loss, pain and fear,

The poem’s ink makes my head clear.

My anger shall boil

Until I refuse to recoil.

I am no more a delicate flower

With my poetry, I am granted power.

The power to be calm and free,

Is the best gift poems have given to me.