penned up inside refused voice refused ink destined to be felt deeply to serve purpose to remind to hurt to ache endlessly to love truly to keep alive the feeling - and yet, still words.
This poem expresses why I write. I learned at an early age, there was power in words - power to tear down and hurt others, or power to build up and encourage. Unfortunately throughout my life I have used them for both. One of the great lessons that I am still learning is how to choose the good, how to find my voice and give ink to my thoughts in a way that edifies instead of destroys.
This poem expresses why I write. I learned at an early age, there was power in words - power to tear down and hurt others, or power to build up and encourage. Unfortunately throughout my life I have used them for both. One of the great lessons that I am still learning is how to choose the good, how to find my voice and give ink to my thoughts in a way that edifies instead of destroys.
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