The Stroke of a Pencil

It use to be darkness, but I walked in the light.

It used to be loneiless, but I was bright.

I was a walking blank slate then I began to write,

write the passion that a piece of paper ignited, and my worries washed away with the stroke of a pencil. 

Against fear, I fight with potential through the use of an ordinary ustensil, 

Against the world of doubt and terror, I fight,

and within the last my last right, I will fight for my voice to be heard from the darkness.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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