I am not an eloquent speaker
My insecurities are graves my tongue digs deeper
My thoughts are vibrant tapestries of worlds crafted by the finest hand
But when my mouth opens
All that comes out is boxes and canned
And what you hear is grainy sand
Compared to my drop of universe but when
I pick up a pen
And place it, poised on perfect paper
I become the world's shaper
I dream in vividity
And I paint in lucidity
And suddenly my thoughts and words align
And you can see the painting in my mind
Within the lines