I am not made of stone.
I have been told
That I wear my heart upon my sleeve
That my writing tells all.
While my writing is imbued with
My thoughts, my feelings, my desires
I write only what I want known.
I am a world of private thoughts and feelings
Pain and joy
Mine to share
If I desire.
You will not find me crying publicly
But that does not mean I don’t hurt
It does not mean that the tears I shed
Don’t run hot down my face
When I am alone.
I get confused and frustrated
I have feelings
I have pride
I can be hurt by unkindness
Especially when it’s unwarranted
Though you’ll never know how much.
No, I am not made of stone
I am made
Photograph taken from WhiteNoten