you are not in wonderland ➵ poems

writer's block

There are ideas running
miles in my brain, but
all my ink has been spilled
like a glass of wine, stain teasing,
and my pen does not work.
Blank remains the sheet,
untouched with my words,
the things I have to say;
though my voice has been
stolen, I will not be silenced.
Hear me scream my beliefs
until the very day I die with
utmost passion. Watch the
movements of my hands and
lips change the world, for I am
a deity to fear, to trust.