A waterfall of empty tears
is rushing down my stinging cheek.
A careless slap restored my fears;
my strengthened soul now wanders weak.

In shadows of restraint I weep,
imploring freedom's might to guide,
but apprehension's knife cuts deep;
amidst seclusion's warmth I'll hide.

The ebony flow of ink will bleed
in pools of inspirations lost,
as hands of silence choke the seed;
my dreams and aspirations tossed.

Behind a wall of doubt I'll stand
until my self-esteem renews,
then passion's pen will guide my hand
erasing shades of black and blues.