I have no words to say,
but so many thoughts to speak,
my mind is my prison,
my thoughts, captives,
my mouth is their guard,
I wish to say everything,
everything on my mind,
but hold back,
because although I'd love to be free,
free of these scattered thoughts bombarding my mind,
I'm scared,
scared of what you might think,
scare of how you might judge me,
scared of what I'll screw up,
what if I ruin a friendship,
mine or someone else's,
just because I'm blunt,
does not mean I'll tell you what's on my mind,
'Don't ask, don't tell,' a motto I live by,
so instead I write,
I write on my hands,
with charcoal black ink,
it's hard to read,
but that doesn't matter,
all that matters is that my thoughts,
emotions,
and worries are expressed and free,
many ask me what the jumbled words say,
but I shrug it off,
saying it's nothing,
but truthfully the cluttered words on my hand are my escape,
my runaway place,
my vacation,
my tainted black hand is my oasis.