My Voice Came Out In Ink

I was like a porcelain doll with no expression, Emotion and feeling existed only in my mind, They stared when I had no happiness or aggression, Wanting to express them, yet no voice did I find. For most of my life I never had a voice, I could only smile, barely laugh, or cry, Then, for the first time I was given a choice, Now I could escape the torture of being so shy. When I put pen to paper, my voice came out in ink, It was not written in a diary, but in rhyme, Only then did they realize the things that I think, I sat there in solitude, and gave it all my time. The words passed by and escaped my vocal chord, I let my pen and paper do the talking for me now, As finally, that hidden volume inside me soared, The inspiration kept coming, though I don't know how. My thoughts journeyed like blood through veins, All the hidden pain, fear, and truth that lingers, Down my arm, to my hand, and here it remains, It comes out there in the pen between my fingers. Since that first day, my soul has broken free, My secrets can now run away from home, My heart and mind are here for you to see, And find acceptance within the lines of a poem.