By: Sidney Mansueto
Feasting on fear and a lack of confidence,
I see the words and dislike their sound
What if no one can resonate?
The page crumbles, as forced by my fist
Alive is the love I have for the art
And the freedom I have
To turn everything around
The number two pencil rolls
Gliding, I grasp it tightly
I whisper, “I will”.
Words flow, eloquent
As this rhythm is
Pride beams
Eyes glare at the beauty
Of the poem I call
finished
Categories: Creative Writing