Unfinished: Why I Write
My mind defies its own limitation
Limitless thoughts brim over a limited understanding
And my hands then
Become vessels of things I sometimes can't control
these fingers hold
uncontrolled
ideas and emotions and motion
to profess them out...
My voice is background static in the radio station called life
Nothing I say comes out right
But when I write
Scribble and etch myself onto these lines
I can
I can deny deterrents
Break free of the suffocating undercurrents of shyness
There is no timorous or feelings of insufficience because
With great pens comes great audacity
And the capability
and the capacity
To Express the deepest parts of me
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