A dreamer,
afflicted with struggle,
unaware of the pain.
Survival is bleak,
yet unconsciously the fight continues.
Within lies the key to the future,
but how can one see the future when you can longer see yourself?

So many poems
and stories
have gone unwritten
due to fear of not being good enough

You probably think you know me,
but you only know what you have heard.
you wish to peek in my mind,
but what you'd see would be absurd.

A thousand words I've spoken,
and the billion left unsaid,
the thoughts that spiral through my mind
when I'm trying to go to bed.

The thoughts that left me empty,
and the others that made me cry,
the words that you had spoken,
to slither into my mind.

they tell me "be strong, stay resistant,
you should keep up a fight"
but i hide under my sheets at the worst hours of night
i try to be a fighter,
but i do it with my words,
so ill keep writing what i write
in hopes of being heard.

I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille