Sit there and look pretty.
Only speak when you're spoken to.
Show each of them respect,
And God knows I did.
My heads pounding the more I smile.
I shake needing to tell them I don't feel right,
A billion words rushing to the front of my brain.
The louder I whisper them,
The better I feel.
But there goes that dirty look.
I know that look.
That's the do as you're told kind of look my mom use to give me.
I look away and picked them up.
Keep breathing Ashley.
The pain will soon go away.
It has to!
I can't take it any longer.
I'll release you if that's what you want.
Connecting pencil to paper outside of a classroom.
God have mercy on me.
Let them go.
Each spills out.
Faster than the next.
Shakespeare makes his mark.
And it was then I found a microphone.
Volume to the max.
They lowered my volume, but never silenced my voice.
It was all released.
Words themselves screamed let me out!
I found my voice.
Such a beautiful thing.
More beautiful than a new born baby at the time.
Now I can't stop,
And I'll never stop writing.
Well God just gave me way to much to say.
My spoken words will fade and so will I.
But my writings?
They'll remain beautiful things.
Some may call them a work of art.
That is why I write.