I've always felt that words are my weapons,

the one thing that nobody can steal away.

And I feel that words are as natural as my breathing,

the one thing in my life that has always stayed.

But then I also realize that words aren't what they seem,

these thousands of thoughts that come so easily.

Because I can write them from my brain so quick,

but honestly, these words are also my greatest enemy.

Becuase when my words turn to speaking,

it seems they are the devil's own laughter.

Because I can write all this all down,

but I can never speak from the words on this paper.

See, it's like a silent scream,

all these bits of ink that spill from my fingers.

Things I can jot down so quick,

but in my verbal words, they never linger.

A bit like drowning, I suppose,

I can scream as loud as humanly possible.

And the water can hear every cry from my lungs,

but people hearing is just implausible.

So deep underwater I go,

drowning in these words only on paper.

Things that will never come to light,

because the silence in my words is just safer.

And a soldier I am,

armed with a pen and paper, it seems.

But a soldier without a voice,

a soldier with nothing but a silent scream.