To Write

A secret sound may not always be heard.

Whispers in the night, a true desire

Flying to new heights; as free as a bird?

No; imprisoned ‘neath masks of a liar.

The pen will reveal what the voice will not;

A pain, a fear, a hope – a person’s heart

Which, under expectation, has forgot.

Hidden by anonymity, an art.

A sorrow released by a single rhyme

A joy shown with free verse’s liberty

An old wound will heal in a moment’s time.

Poetic cure morphed with intensity.

A scream or cry never did help me then,

Raging thoughts silenced only by a pen.