My thoughts, too powerful for this ink,
My mind running faster, than any hand can write,
Words sing to me,
In selective melodies of love, sadness and hope,
My memories replaced by a distant chorus,
That I am to write,
For you to see the girl hidden inside,
She sings to me,
Letting herself come alive,
Through the motions of my hand and your mind,
Read her secrets,
Admire her inner thoughts,
Follow her movements as I write,
For she is me,
A writer not ready to expose herself,
I am hidden behind my fear to create,
My fear of failure,
She is the voice I am not ready to speak.