Pen as sword,
notebook as shield,
I battle my inner demons that I dare not whisper.
Consider me a knight,
Not one fighting for monarchy, but for empathy.
So that you may see me as more than your first impressions,
more than my flaws and shortcomings.
See that I’m soul and spirit, troubled by mind and body.
And these words that illustrate my struggles don’t make me an outcast
but it makes me a human being,
who possesses a beating heart filled with a desire to be understood.
Every stroke of my pen is a strike at my bondage.
The world is a cold gray dungeon,
capable of sealing out the slightest ounce of sunshine or hope.
But these letters and punctuation give me strength,
and a will to break free.
I have an overflowing gratitude for this right hand.
It gives me the power that my voice never could,
each time I grab hold of this pen.