I have much in me, much to say.
But when words are spoken the meanings fail to stay.
Those who listen, do not hear.
Despite my attempts, to make it clear.
There is much in me, much to convey.
The tales in me, run free but never away.
There are worlds inside, many realms to find.
They excite me, dance around, leave echoes in my mind.
In my imagination resides creatures of dark nature.
I fear them not for I AM their creator.
I’ve met people, those of different times.
They approach me, and we converse oftentimes.
There are characters with whom I’ve fallen and wish to wed…
forgive me, I see I have rushed quite ahead.
I have much in me, many stories unheard.
But when I speak them, my confidence fall, my words become slurred.
Those I meet, don’t offer their ear.
My words do not resonate, instead my oddities are feared.
Now I choose to write, my imagination is wild.
It took me some time, but I’m finally reconciled.
I choose to write, to the world reveal my thoughts.
My depth never realised when spoken, the way it ought.
I choose to bind words, express them in written form.
To present ideations even those against the norm.
I write for me,
for some it’s hard to see.
I write for you,
if in my words, you find truth.
I write for all,
if only to resound my call.
And even if few,
I hope to make readers imagine too.