I Am a Dancer

Lift me up, higher

Bring me out, on a page.

With a pencil in hand, I dance on stage.

I might not tell you, or say how I feel

My soul is masked by a face that conceals.

Talking is hard, the price is high

writng is free--erase, and try!

Again and again, stuttering sounds

Risk lies in pronunciation, compounds.

Do I laugh? Time to cry? Panic--do both!

Strange glances, judgement--have I disobeyed social oath?

After stumbling far, I've learned to not care.

My words dance better on a page

than in air.