+ There're many things I want to say;

+  And they accumulate day by day.

+ But my mouth rarely utters;

+ Instead, it merely stutters.

+ As introverted as I am;

+ I try hard to keep calm.

+ I store my words in a locket;

+ Within my heart, a closet.

+ As I try to lock it up;

+ An idea perks me up.

+ My pen could be my tongue;

+ Armed with it I'd be strong.

+ I'd unveil my heart's content;

+ And write until I'm spent.

+ My pen would be my sword;

+ And by God I'll keep my word.