Silenced from a young age,
words became my voice.
I did not speak for fear filled me.
All the hurt,
the pain,
was bottled up.
I was told it would make everything better.
But what did that do?

I shut out the world,
and wore a mask.
Never speaking the truth.
I learned to deny reality.
Hoping my life was not true.
Smiling through pain never has been so easy.
Until the day,
I had no choice.

Alone I sat in the abyss of my room.
Surrounded by nothing but books.
In my room I always knew,
it was safe too.
It was there I realized I knew what I had to do.

Books had become my refuge.
So I began to write.
Emotions were conveyed on paper.
My heart poured out with every passing minute.

When I spoke no one listened to me.
And then I started to write,
everyone became alert and listened.
My words became my voice.

Writing set me free,
allowing me to open my heart.
Years of stress and locked up emotion were finally reveled.
Writing truly is-
a voice for the silenced.