PEN, PAPER AND ME!!

The world speaks loud, in fleeting sound, With heavy words that shake the ground. They call it brave to shout, to cry, To let the passing echoes fly. But breath is vapor, wind, and air, It fades away and leaves us there. So let them judge the quiet room, The silent space where thoughts can bloom. It’s not a coward’s retreat, fear That brings me to this canvas clear; It’s knowing that the spoken word Is lost the moment it is heard. For ink holds weight that voices lack, A steady force that pushes back. A verbal vow can drift and break, A fragile choice that shadows make. But what I feel, and what I know, Upon these lines begins to grow. The scratches of a midnight pen Will stand when speeches reach its end. No fleeting breath, no passing plea, Just history, On paper, Written by me.