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Confined
September 9, 2018
The music at my fingertips,
The song upon my heart,
The poetry impressed within my soul--
Are trapped inside.
My pen is no fit medium,
My lips refuse to sing,
My hands cannot express their tingling burden--
It’s trapped inside.
The art I can’t communicate,
The passion I can’t free,
The thoughts, the words, that can’t escape my mind--
They’re trapped inside.
© Liyang Z., Mississauga
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Some days, my passion to write is so strong it hurts, but I find myself unable to express it.