The girl with the bright, friendly eyes
And the smile that masked her tears with a twinge of shyness
Could not use brushes or pencils
To paint her fears as her father and grandmother could.
The longing to connect faded
As the years passed by and with sweet bubblegum lyrics
She poured air in to fill the void
But the emission of the fragrant breaths would soon end
The false sense of purpose fulfilled.
So one day she opened a notebook and spoke truth with
Swipes of graphite and metaphors.
She called her thoughts to sit on lines covering paper.
She used black dahlias to hide
The truth from eyes that could not comprehend expression
In ways that were not publicly
Displayed. I write because my voice is not loud enough
To share my thoughts through megaphones
Or microphones. My feet lack skill and genes left one choice.
I write so that my mask can rise
As my essence is displayed for the world’s viewing
As the swipe of a black marker
Watered down shows the entirety of a rainbow.