A Chance at the Truth

My ideas are my own.
I will not be silenced.

My words are my own,
I will spread them to the world.

My medium is the written word
To stop me is to hold me back
To censor me is to hold me down
To impose restrictions on me is to break my spirit and take my freedom away.
The ruled sheet is my canvas onto which my masterpiece will flow.

My masterpiece will be truly mine;
Heartfelt expressions, lyrically phrased,
and brought forward in such a way that nobody,
Not a soul,
Will ever challenge me as to what is mine and what is not.

I shall not see my visions tarnished, I will not hide them from the world.
I can not stop because of anger produced by my veiled allusions.
The words that sting are the true feelings from my heart,
and I have only the choice in how the words sting whom.

The words may stay bottled, hidden from all but me;
The stings forever going inwards.

Words may flow onto the empty page but silenced in fear of offending another,
The feelings that would be seen only shadows of what truly exists.
My feelings would be detached, forgotten and lost.
A part of myself, at some time, scattered forever and a nagging sense of loss all that remains.

My heart could go out though, out for all to take notice.
Feelings expressed and acknowledged, the heartfelt wounds no longer simply mine to bear.
Spread amongst those that should know them, those that would want to see.
A jealous few would hate them, but that would be the price to pay for being free.
Thought for thought, what is there is truly me.


My words are not crafted to be the barbs that they are seen as.
My lines are not made with the intent to hurt.

I choose my words and lay them down,
I share them with the world.
I ask for help, I ask for guidance.

Guidance to heal,
Guidance to teach.

Guidance to find what I am looking for within myself.


This must be understood.

I write for me, and for no one else.
I write to clear my mind,
such that I can know my own self true.
I write to better my craft, to sharpen my mind.
I write so that I know my deepest thoughts,
the ones that do not make themselves known.
I write so that I can try to find balance.

I show my art to the world not in a spirit of vengeance;
not in a spirit of malevolence.
It is so that I can be shown how to express myself.

Express myself better,
More clearly,
More eloquently,
More lyrically.

I show my art to the world not to sting and bruise,
It is so that I can ask how to not feel the stings and bruises myself.

So that I will not bruise,
So that I will not be stung.
So in the future when I am given pause to think again on matters close,
The lessons learned will bring a new resolution.
One beneficial to all.

I write, I share, I listen, I change.
I write again.


As much as I wish to do one thing, I often do another.
Such did my work, to assert my integrity and honour,
become a heartfelt plea for understanding.

It saddens me that through all of it, I will still not receive it.
I will receive scorn,
I will be the subject of derision,
I will have those who I seek to make understand, become enraged.

In the end though, my works will be mine.
If I have to choose between the artificial peace and my dreams,
I pick my dreams.
If the choice to keep my eventual masterpiece,
Causes strife and increases the enmity always felt,
the choice becomes more difficult.

I do not desire it, but I must let what I create be mine.
Not someone elses, tainted by threats and anger.
Not soured by a sugar coating.
Whatever shown must be the truth.

I will show my words.
I will show my heart.
I will show the truth.

As much as it may pain me in the end,
I will not be silenced.


Until next time...