Oh, how I ponder
about all thee days
that I sit in this room,
writing words
no one will ever read.
The ones I keep locked up
in a journal on my bed stand.
The ones I read to myself
wondering if others
will ever understand.
I write
all that I am
with ink and pointed led.
I write
all my feelings,
hoping that one day
I'll have the courage
and they'll be said.
For all I am is a writer,
locked up in my own head,
praying someone will see me
and free the words that'll never be read.