Real

My mind clouds, my feelings enshrouded. Verbal words fail me, yet those expressed through writing save me. My lips cannot form what my hands want to speak. They have no mouth, yet are capable of powerful expression. Aloud, awkward, no one listens. But written in silence, the tension thickens. Here, I am me. I write to say that which is unheard. I write to feel what, in my head, burns. What lies hidden beneath my tongue, yet breaches from my fingertips. I write to feel real. I write to be real.