a trembling voice cannot carry the weight of the words I want to say
s-s-stuttering and bringing doubt when they are certain
my writing cannot shake with anxiety, only my hands
a painting of stars spelling out my my fears, guided by ambivalent fingers
the flow of my thoughts across a keyboard, a pencil on paper
it's a wondrous thing
my muse and my inspiration, my beautiful afflatus
fears overwhelm me, but my hope is so precious
a breaking planet barely held together by gravity
the light of the sun scarcely reaching me
but I write, in hopes of touching it, to feel its warmth
