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What Are My Words?
What are my words?
My words are letters on a page,
Of small strokes
And wavered lines,
Of deleted sentences
And invisible wishes.
My words are scrambled thoughts,
Of stagnant conversation
And wistful understanding,
Of lost meaning
And burning regret.
My words are my ideas.
My desires.
Of my wishes for the world,
And how I might change it.
If only I had the chance,
If only I had the courage.
My words are my fears.
Of what others will think
And what they might say.
Of stormy waves
That crash inside of my skull,
An endless typhoon
Of the worst parts of myself.
The deepest,
Most painful,
Recesses of my mind.
But what are my words without me?
Your words can’t be mine,
And mine can’t be yours.
I can’t see the world through your eyes,
No matter how much I dream
And how close we become.
We can breathe the same air,
But I can never speak your words.
There are things that only you can think,
That only you can say,
That only you can do.
What are my words?
Well,
They are the only pieces of myself
That are ever, truly
Mine.
I was apart of the Young Authors Academy at BYU, and I wrote this piece to describe my ever-changing feelings towards becoming a writer, my struggles with confidence, and my subsequent acceptance of my dreams.