In a world where bright, beautiful, and brilliant minds

are hidden behind one’s own black clothes and one’s own introversion,

A poet at a loss for words,

Rests her soul and spirit inside herself,

While the only true way to communicate her knowledge and wisdom,

Is by speaking it.

Though she is aware of this,

She has no desire, nor is she able to.

Because she is bound by herself.

She is so secure, yet insecure in the same.

For fear of rejection by the world,

Or fear of not being heard as widespread as desired.

She suffers behind her writing utensils,

And takes refuge between the movement of her fingers,

That create words to be dispersed into the universe.

She stays silent, all whilst still reciting her speeches in her head.

Still having the world to give the world,

She embodies all art forms beyond her self-constructed barriers.

A writer, with nothing more to say, and so much more to piece together into a poem.