My words are my weapon, my defence.

My words may redeem me or hang me out to dry.

My words maybe truth, they may be lie.

 

They are the thoughts that I can’t hold in.

The criticism I take on the chin.

My words can make me a great friend or a crap enemy.

They show me to be a bitch, a sweetheart, an idiot, educated?

My words reveal things about me that I could otherwise hide, and they hide things about me that I might otherwise reveal.

They belong to me. They may have been said in the same way a million times before.

But when they are released from my trap door

They’re mine.

My words are angry, happy, sad, elated infuriated, they make me feel frustrated, aggravated, emancipated.

I love my words, but sometimes they limit me because there aren’t enough.

There are words I need to exist but they don’t.

There are words I want to say but I wont.

My words have the power to make or break a relationship. They can anger someone enough to hate me or entice someone enough to love me.

My words are as strong as a diamond but as weak as a tiny baby.

Words can start or end a war. Words can mean the difference between life and death.

Words can give or deny interest.

 

Even in the depths of despair, incarceration, when the world seems like a gaping dark hole with no way out, having words means I can express, expel, scream, cry and shout.

My words give me the freedom to be me.

 

My words wont cure cancer or heal the blind

But they gave me the voice I longedto find.